Devil May Cry: Hell's Frontline
by The Joe and Gromit Show
Summary: War ravages the globe once again, but this time the foe is beyond human. Soldier and civilian alike are slaughtered in their masses, and Dante & Vergil find themselves in the centre of it all, facing a sinister plot at the very core of the enemy. Joefic.
1. Opening

_Disclaimer: Anything that's copyrighted in this story is not owned by me._

_Joe: For those of you who seen my author name and clicked on the name of this story expecting a humour fic, you'll be disappointed. And, for those of you who are wondering what the "Joe:" means, click on my bio._

_As advertised, this is a war fic between demons and humans. Things won't really kick up for a good few chapters, so bear with me. There's a lot of plot to build up. _

_**This is important. So important that I'm putting it in nice bold underlined letters. Old readers should take this into account (I've edited this chapter since I first posted it). Since I began this before Devil May Cry 4 was released, I'll have to adjust the timetable accordingly. Take it as such:**_

**_Devil May Cry 3._**

**_Devil May Cry 1._**

**_Devil May Cry 2._**

**_Devil May Cry: Hell's Frontline._**

**_Devil May Cry 4._**

_Anyway, let's begin._

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* * *

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_**Devil May Cry: Hell's Frontline**_

Dante Sparda lay asleep on his chair, his feet resting on the mahogany desk.

On the desk lay a newspaper. The headline read: _Five More Mysterious Killings Occurred in Wyoming. All Evidence suggests Manslaughter._

Dante knew what happened there. It wasn't manslaughter. The killings were planned, by an entity that he didn't know of yet. More and more sightings of demons were occurring lately, meaning more and more business for the devil hunter. He and Trish were often gone on different jobs at a time, and they had hired someone to write down the whereabouts of people who rang when they were gone.

They had to abolish the password system. This was because of several accidents that had happened before. People who rang in without the password were in dire need of help, and they never lasted much longer without it. People had died when Dante had refused service to them, and he knew that it was all his fault.

At the moment, Dante was enjoying a rare recess from work. Trish was upstairs, doing god knows what. It didn't matter. He had to sleep while he could. Before, he had gone days without sleep, as clients would ring up at any time. Crime, as they say, never sleeps.

A sudden **BANG** woke Dante from his slumber.

When he came to his senses, he groaned.

He knew what that sound meant. It had happened way too many times before. And it meant trouble.

With a heavy sigh, Dante shifted himself from his chair and walked through the door to his side, which led to the stairs. The living quarters were upstairs, downstairs was merely just the office.

Dante reached the kitchen/living room to find the source of the noise.

There, just at the microwave, was Trish.

She had a puzzled look to her face as she slammed her fist against the appliance in question, which had smoke radiating from it.

Dante rolled his eyes. This had occurred often for the past year or so. Ever since Trish had come, to be precise.

"Stop it. You know that hitting it only makes it worse," Dante announced.

Trish turned towards him, an annoyed look plastered to her face.

"These stupid human things never work! It's not my fault!" she said angrily.

What was happening was that Trish had broken yet another microwave. Ever since she had arrived, she had gone through around 19 microwaves.

Dante was just about to scold her when the phone rang.

He groaned again.

"You get that. I'm too tired," Trish demanded "I took the last five today."

Dante shuffled down the stairs to pick up the phone, muttering curses. He put the receiver up to his ears.

"Devil May Cry. How can I help you?" he stated in a bored voice. The amount of times that he had said that in the past 24 hours...

The client lived only a few blocks away. He could walk. Apparently, he was suffering from a sudden infestation of several hooded figures in red with scythes. Hell Lusts, obviously.

Dante strolled over to his wall and took out Alastor. He could get this done with in just a few minutes. He then checked his holsters. Ebony and Ivory were settled safely in them.

He kicked open the door and yelled out:

"See ya soon, if I'm not back in half an hour, call the cops, kay?"

There was a muffled reply coming from upstairs that stated the affirmative. Dante gave out another sigh and walked out to face the moonlit street outside.

* * *

A shadowy figure stood on a nearby rooftop, watching the hunter below leave his dwelling and head for the main road.

Illuminated only by the midnight moon, the figure silently leaped down onto a lower building. He glanced cautiously back at the only other occupant of the alleyway. The hunter didn't appear to have noticed anything. The figure smiled. The time that it had spent in the underworld hadn't rusted his skills at urban stealth.

There was a slight noise to his left, making the figure immediately assume a fighting stance. Then, it relaxed. It was only a cat. Just another hunter of the night.

The figure placed his hand on his sheathed sword. With a movement so swift it appeared only a blur, the figure made a lightning-quick slash before sheathing his sword again.

As soon as the sword thudded shut into the sheath, the cat hit the ground with it's eyes focused on the same spot. They would never move again.

When all was clear, the figure leaped upwards, soaring high into the air. He landed right on his destination, the building on the other side of the road. A cloud of dust erupted from where he landed.

The Devil May Cry.

The figure huddled down, blending himself in with his surroundings. Now, all that was left to do was wait.

* * *

Dante arrived at the clients house. It was a terraced house, and quite small.

Dante knocked once on the door before knocking it down. All he had to do was let the customer know that he was there, that was all. There was no time to waste in waiting for someone to answer the door. Dante stepped inside the house.

There were definitely signs that demons had entered here.

Books were flung from shelves, windows were cracked, the carpet had holes in it, and several doors were hanging from their hinges.

"Hello?" Dante said loudly.

There was a muffled yelp of relief coming from the cupboard under the stairs.

Dante smiled. The Harry Potter take on hiding. Funnily enough, it normally worked. Lesser demons never seemed to notice the doors built into stairs. The same goes for floors, or the kind of ones that people pull down to get into their attic. They were stupid enough, and only looked for doors that were placed right in front of them, in walls.

Dante opened up the door, and a small man fell out. He was clutching a phone in his hand, and had a look of deep relief on his face. He immediately hid behind Dante as soon as he clambered to his feet.

"Thank god you're here!" he rasped "I don't know how much longer I could've stayed in there!"

Dante inspected him. The skin surrounding his eyes were red, as were his eyes. He had obviously been crying over something. Dante voiced his thoughts.

"You live here alone, or are there others?" he enquired.

The man's face paled. He didn't seem to like Dante's choice of conversation.

"I do now." he muttered.

That was all he said on the subject.

Dante understood. The man had lost a loved one. He knew how it felt, having had his mother taken from him at an early age. Dante didn't ask any further questions about it.

Dante told the man to keep low, and call out if he was in danger. Dante didn't want the man to get in the way, as he would if Dante kept him close. Plus, there was the fact that Dante would hold back on his abilities, not wanting to scare the man.

Dante walked up the stairs first, intending of doing a sweep of the building from upstairs downwards.

Dante kicked open the first door to his right. A bedroom. As soon as he took two steps in, there came a bloodcurdling shriek of laughter from behind him.

Dante immediately jumped upwards without hesitating, knowing what would happen otherwise. Upon landing in a crouching position, Dante looked up. The hell lust had stopped in it's tracks, confused; it's blade slashed only air.

Reacting quickly, Dante impaled the lust with Alastor.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Dante murmured as he pulled the demon off the end of his armament, knowing full well the pain of having Alastor through one's chest.

As the demon slumped downwards it dematerialised into sand. Dante allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction. T

Although, that was only one of them. There was bound to be more.

As if to affirm what Dante just thought, there came a loud plea of help from downstairs.

Dante hurried down the stairs, skipping five at a time as he bounded downwards. He could sense at least ten of the creatures in the general direction of the kitchen.

Dante kicked down another door to find the man hiding behind the counter of the kitchen, a group of lusts patrolling the other side of it.

Dante roared and dived into the group, knocking down several of them. He rolled just in time to avoid having a scythe slice through his neck. Spinning his legs in the sir, Dante rose, pushing against the ground to make him airborne.

A lust shrieked as it swung it's scythe at Dante, who was still airborne and upside down.

Dante parried with Alastor, then pushed against the scythe with it to elevate himself even higher into the air.

His feet gripped onto the kitchen light bulb, while he was still upside down. He took out Ebony and Ivory and rained a shower of bullets onto the helpless enemies, who could not reach Dante with their weapons.

When he got tired of using bullets and after one or two formed into sand, Dante pulled downwards with his feet, forcing the light bulb and the wire it was connected to uproot from the ceiling, making Dante the right side up. He closed his eyes as the light bulb connected with the ground, exploding in a brilliant shower of sparks.

He landed on his feet, then turned to the temporarily blinded lusts. Dante gripped Alastor tighter, then sliced through the entire group with a single low swipe.

To the man hiding behind the counter, it was as if Dante had teleported to the opposite side of the group of demons, but suddenly holding Alastor outwards into the air.

The lusts stood perfectly still as Dante placed Alastor slowly into it's holster on his back.

Then, an explosion of sand erupted where the lusts once were as if on cue. When the cloud of sand subsided, all that was there to be seen was a bunch of bodies separated from their knees and feet, then they themselves formed into sand.

Dante smiled as he held out his hand, offering help to the man hiding behind the counter with a look of deep awe on his face.

The man accepted the hand and was pulled to his feet. He followed Dante as he walked to the front door.

"H-how can I thank you?" the man stammered, incapable of proper speech.

Dante ignored him as he fitted the front door back into it's frame.

The man pulled out his wallet.

"How m-much?" he stuttered.

Dante smiled and waved his hands, signalling that the man should put the money away.

"No problem," Dante told the astounded man "I needed some exercise. I'm only sorry that I didn't come in time to save the others."

And with that, Dante left, leaving a broken man to his troubles.

* * *

Dante was still grinning on his way back. That was fun; a bunch of mindless lesser demons to play with.

He didn't need that money. It was payment in itself. Plus, he was getting plenty as it was, more people would call anyway. His wallet was already filling to the brim.

In fact, he might be able to get that Lamborghini that he always dreamed of getting…

His current mode of thought was interrupted when he noticed that all of the lights were out when he reached home.

He frowned. He was sure that he had left them on. And Trish couldn't have turned them off. They had made an agreement that at least one of them would stay awake at home at night, considering the current situation.

He cautiously opened the front door and peered in. He couldn't sense anything inside. Nothing. He sighed and walked in.

If he wasn't so concentrated on the inside, he would have sensed the figure slipping down from the roof and skulking in the shadows behind him.

Dante stepped inside and flicked on the light switch, smiling as he remembered what he had done with the clients light bulb.

Then, as soon as he took two steps forward, the light went back out.

Dante froze. This time, he definitely sensed something behind him.

He heard a chink of metal, then he hurriedly brought Alastor above his head.

_Clang!_

Dante frowned. He recognised that aura. Similar to his, actually. When you first sense it seems weak and human. Then, after inspection, you can tell that it has something much, much more powerful hidden inside.

Then, his suspicions were confirmed as a low voice broke through the silence.

"A second later and you would be dead by now. You're getting rusty, Dante."

Dante's eyes widened. It couldn't be.

He reached out and flicked back on the light.

There, holding the sword that Dante had just managed to block, was Vergil, his estranged twin brother.

Dante gripped Alastor tighter and pulled it out of the lock that was holding both of the blades. He then swiftly brought it menacingly to point Vergil's throat.

"You again." Dante growled.

Vergil gave a cheeky sneer.

"Your swordplay isn't the only thing getting rusty, brother. Even a human could have told that it was me by now." he teased calmly, not letting his voice show any emotion.

Dante glared.

"Shut up! I have the upper hand here."

Vergil remained calm, as he always does. Then, he put on a tone of false hurt.

"Oh? And what makes you think that I mean harm, brother dear?"

Dante relaxed his grip on Alastor, though keeping the same level of caution.

"Harm? You've meant harm every time we've met since we were 18!" he growled accusingly.

Vergil let loose a grin.

"Is that so? Then, we'll have to work on our conversation skills then, won't we?"

Dante suppressed a grin and kept his blade level. He wouldn't let Vergil take him off guard.

Vergil seemed to read his mind.

"Still don't trust me? Here."

Vergil threw his katana, Yamato, to the ground.

Finally, but slowly, Dante relaxed. He put Alastor back on the wall.

Vergil picked up Yamato and holstered it quickly, then slowing down just before the blade was fully in, just as he always did.

Dante stayed on his feet. He still didn't trust Vergil enough to sit down in his presence.

Vergil on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine, then made himself comfortable on Dante's favourite chair. Dante never took his eyes off Vergil.

"So," Dante stated. Vergil looked up at him "if you don't want a fight, then why did you come?"

Vergil's face of comfort turned grim.

"Enough chit-chat," he said in a voice as grim as his face "I came here for a good reason, and I'm not wasting my time any more."

Dante nodded to show he was listening.

Vergil started off.

"As you may have noticed, demons are becoming numerous."

Dante nodded again, this time in agreement.

"And, because of that, so are deaths," Vergil continued "you may think that this will eventually fade out, or something like that."

Dante's became worried. Vergil was putting in words the worries that had plagued him for the past few months.

"Also, I found myself ragged and scarred not two days ago, in the middle of nowhere…the only memories that I have before that is of me being defeated by you, then challenging the Prince of darkness…"

Dante gasped. This explained a hell of a lot. _That_ Malet Island incident.

"Everything that happened from then on are extremely vague…everything is either misty or black and white…"

By now, Vergil's state of speech had slowed down, and for the first time since their youth, Dante saw fear in Vergil's eyes.

"Also…when I awoke…I was _older_. Much older. When I had challenged the Prince of Darkness, I was about 19...but now…"

Dante suppressed another laugh. Vergil was facing what everyone found out at some point in their lives. They were getting older.

Of course, being half-demon, they were immortal. Once they reached somewhere in their twenties, they stopped ageing, but going from 19 to about 27 in the space of one moment of memory, that would just be terrifying.

Vergil continued,

"Since my awakening, I have stolen from shops to survive… as you can see, I have regained my old fashion sense,"

Dante let himself smile. This was true. All he could ever remember Vergil wearing was blue, even as a child.

"But," Vergil's voice regained it's former grim quality "I know what's going on here. During my time in the underworld, I heard a whisper of a plan being formed by the forces."

Dante looked confused.

"What kind of plan?" he asked.

Vergil's eyes told Dante that he didn't want to know, even before Vergil answered.

"A plan to override the humans. A plan to regain all power lost 2,000 years ago."

Dante's jaw dropped. Around 2,000 years ago, Sparda shut away all evil. Before that, humans had acted as slaves to all mankind. They were the lowest of the rankings, even lower than the lesser demons, such as Sargasso.

The year that even the humans recognised as the year that all evil took a large blow.

The date: 25 December, 0 B.C.

Though, the terms A. D and B. C were originally used in the ancient demon language, Lìstook, the humans mistook it as a term used in their main language, Latin.

The humans had no idea over what really happened that day. Looking for the most possible answer, they discovered that, in the East, the Jews had declared that a "Messiah" was born. Therefore, that is why, humans celebrate the 25th of December.

If one was to look in the ancient records, they would discover that Christ was born in 6 B. C, 6 years before the demons banishment.

B. C does not mean "Before Christ".

In the ancient demon language, it means "Reign Of Evil," the words "bèniocalì Carcianitùm" are the initials used.

A. D is not the Latin term for the years after, but the Lìstook term for "Demon Banishment," or in their words, "Aeonù Demonica,"

When Sparda banished the demons, he set a worldwide spell to erase the memories of all enslavement from the demons from the minds of the humans. Therefore, there is no record of worldwide slavery.

Dante was finding trouble to find the right words.

"You mean," he rasped "that they're trying to revive Mundus? Or some other big-ass demon? Argosax?"

Vergil shook his head.

"No. I'm talking all-out war."

* * *

_First chapter, done and done. You may notice a good few changes from when it was first posted. I'm constantly going back to old chapters and improving them. If you're a first time reader, this is of no remote importance to you, so just ignore any of my author's notes until the newest chapter._

_Ciao._


	2. Skirmish in the Streets

_Disclaimer: No progress here, still don't own DMC._

_Joe: Just a quick note that since this is fiction, a lot of the time I'll be putting down some current affair things, such as global warming, and putting a fictional reason for it's effects. You'll find out what I mean soon enough. Just don't think I'm a redneck who doesn't believe in global warming. Besides, I'm Irish._

_I also want to stress that this fic is T rated, and there'll most certainly be some coarse language and violence. The violence part is obvious, I'm just warning sensitive ears about the language. I'm keeping a lid on some of the stronger stuff, though, but the fic's not exactly PG._

_

* * *

_

Dante poured himself his twelfth cup of coffee. He had stayed up all night with Vergil, the two discussing their course of action.

Eventually, they had both agreed that they would do nothing until they got wind of a "serious" demonic attack.

Vergil had also gone into depth over what the signs to loom out for were, and one by one, Dante grimly pointed out that they were all apparent.

The first sign was: an overall increase in temperatures and harmful sun rays.

This was definitely happening. It also lead to show that the theory of the ozone layer was all bullshit. The harmful rays were not U.V., it was merely showing that the dimension known as hell was coming closer to the human realm. The two were becoming one.

This led to the clichè that hell was hotter, leading to an increase of temperatures. Soon, demons would appear out of nowhere, once the union between the two realms was close enough. Most demons had the power to break through the fabric separating them.

The second sign: Chaos itself would infest itself into the human realm. This was obvious. There has always been war in some place or other throughout time, and that still holds through today, but there has been a notable increase in world conflicts.

Locally, muggings, rape and murder were becoming increasingly frequent as well, and even at this stage for the most part humans were the culprits. Humanity is a threat to itself, and nothing could help, seemingly. Suicide was also becoming more popular, as people are becoming less and less able to keep it all out.

Dante downed the coffee in a single gulp, the scalding heat too little for his demonic throat to receive damage from. He turned to his favourite chair, which was currently occupied by a sullen Vergil. Dante frowned. Vergil would not vacate it without a fight.

Sighing heavily, Dante sat down on the much less comfortable desk chair and flicked on the TV.

Nothing worthwhile on. Dante flicked through the channels for a while, then just left it on CNN.

The twins were temporarily blinded as the suns first rays crept in through the window.

Dante got a strange feeling deep within. He immediately stood up. He didn't know why, but there was something wrong. Vergil seemed to have noticed it to, because he had his hand on the hilt of Yamato.

Then, sure enough, a large electronic banner spread itself across CNN as they received a newsflash, and the news-station started receiving footage from a correspondant on-hand at the news scene. Neither of the twins were surprised by what they saw.

There was live footage being shown from the station's helicopter, showing what looked like a street brawl down below.

What was actually happening, as you could see when the helicopter got close enough, was a large squad of SWAT police forming a large blockade in the middle of the town, all of them equipped with the usual riot shields and batons.

On the other side of the blockade was what appeared to be hooded figures with what were unmistakeably scythes. On the rooftops were what appeared to be immense armoured lizards leaping from rooftop to rooftop, screaming madly.

In the air were large eagles shrieking loudly, which Dante recognised as Puia.

The news lady could be heard from a radio in the helicopter, asking the newsman hurried questions.

The camera focused down lower, giving the viewers a clear glimpse of what was happening.

A very decorated police lieutenant approached the group with a loudspeaker. He cleared his throat into the loudspeaker then spoke.

"YOU ARE ALL ORDERED TO DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND CEASE YOUR INHUMANE ACTIVITIES AT ONCE. YOU WILL HAND YOURSELVES IN – PEACEFULLY, IMMEDIATELY. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL BE MET WITH VIOLENT RESPONSE."

He spoke this loud and clear, speaking every word boldly as it had been memorised thoroughly.

There was no spoken response from the group. A blade narrowly missed the police lieutenant's neck as it zoomed through the air. As if tied by an invisible string, the blade was pulled back in mid air, pointing straight at the back of the lieutenant's head.

There was a sickening squelch, amplified by the loudspeaker. An audible gasp could be heard from the cameraman and news correspondant. News reporters on ground were hurriedly pushed away by the SWATs.

The newsman in the helicopter started speaking furiously into his radio, giving the basis to what happened to the news team.

Then, a Puia eagle shrieked and landed in the helicopter. The newsman screamed as he tried batting away the large bird feebly with his microphone. With another shriek, the puia trusted it's talons deep into the mans chest. There was a splatter of blood on the camera, followed by the cameraman began wailing in horror. The puia took flight again, departing from the helicopter, flying away with it's spasming prey.

There was a pause for a long while, the cameraman crying loudly, and the news reporters in the station too shocked to speak.

Dante, having seen enough, flicked off the TV, then got up and picked Rebellion off the wall. He nodded towards Vergil, who nodded back as he stood up.

This was _definitely_ serious enough for them to take action.

Dante opened the door and let Vergil out first, then proceeding after his twin.

* * *

When Dante reached the riot, he realised something. This wasn't just a tearaway of some demons. This was all-out rebellion. The numbers were far too large. He could see a large variety of demons in numbers he had never seen before. There was a scattering of the entire seven sins, Blades (_or Assaults, if you're going by DMC4. I'll refer to them as Blades_), Puiae, and even Frosts.

Dante ran into the fray, following Vergil, who had already decapitated a hell-sloth.

Dante threw Rebellion, like a spear, skewering several demons onto it, then impaling them altogether against the side of a building. They all lay there helpless, shrieking as sand shot out from their torsos. Dante thrust his foot into Rebellion, digging it deeper into the wall, and forcing the demons into each other, into a pulp of what ended up as sand. Dante pulled Rebellion off with a heave when there was nothing left.

He turned around. Vergil was on the rooftops, slashing at a group of Frosts. Dante grinned. When there was a battle, Vergil would be everywhere. Then, Dante frowned. He noticed a sly Frost creep up behind Vergil, claws bared.

Dante pulled out Ebony and Ivory and spun them around his fingers for a second, unable to help himself, then pointed the two at the target and fired.

The bullets whizzed through the air, starting to spin due to the strength of the wind, then flew straight into the Frost's head, repeatedly beating into it's icy helm-like skull. The bullets eventually excavated a hole through it's skull, and the Frost gave one last hiss before the life faded from it and it started to evaporate. Vergil turned around, startled, then noticed Dante holding a pair of steaming handguns below. He nodded his thanks.

Dante turned, and was just about to smack a hell pride in the face when he noticed a human policeman turn his attention to Dante.

"What the _hell_ are you?" the cop asked, trembling slightly.

Before Dante could respond, he noticed something just above the cop. It was a puia, preparing it's talons to grab and fly off with him as prey. Dante raised Ebony

The cop's eyes widened when he saw the gun pointing just at him. He closed his eyes as he heard the gunshot. A few seconds later, he opened them. There, on the ground beside him, was a giant eagle writhing in agony.

"Me?," Dante answered with a small grin, blowing the smoke from the muzzle of Ebony "I'm on your side, that's what I am."

The cop nodded, eyes widened, then walked off, feeling very startled.

Dante took a look around. There were a few familiar faces around here. He wasn't the only devil hunter around here. Even before the infestations, there was a society of devil hunters living in New York, as there were in most major cities.

He couldn't help laughing when he noticed a familiar rocket-launcher.

"Hey! Lady!" he yelled tauntingly "need help with that gun?"

The devil hunter in question, had appeared to have tripped while trying to aim her immense bayonet-tipped rocket launcher. She didn't seem to be totally focused on her mission. At the moment, she was staring wide eyed at several red spiders on the ground. She didn't appear to have heard Dante, either.

It didn't escape Dante what was going on.

Those tiny red spiders normally meant one thing. There was a Phantom nearby.

On Mallet island, Dante had killed the Father-Phantom, but had accidentally left some babies alive, thinking they were harmless. But they grew up. They were nowhere near as tough as the original, and didn't seem capable of speech, but they were still mighty entities in their own right.

Even an experienced devil hunter such as Lady would be risking her life to take one on.

Then, sure enough, a tremor could be felt in the ground.

Turning around the corner, was at least ten Phantoms.

Dante caught Vergil's eye. They would need each other's support for this.

Vergil leaped off the building he was on, Yamato facing downwards. He landed just on top of a Phantom's back, then brought Yamato swiftly down.

A large pool of molten magma erupted from the pore that Vergil had inflicted. Vergil brought it up again, then down in a butter churning motion, moving it up and down again.

The Phantom let out a roar and smacked Vergil off from it's back using it's stinger.

While in the air, Vergil stuck out his arm.

Dante jumped in the path of Vergil's flight, catching by the hand, then spinning him round and round to pick up speed. Finally, he let go, firing Vergil at the nearest Phantom.

A red tinge could be seen to Vergil's front as he sped towards the target. Just before he was about to hit it, he stuck out his sword, intending to cut right through the Phantom.

Just after Dante had thrown Vergil, a Phantom had got at him from behind and picked Dante up with it's stinger. Dante could only flail helplessly as he was thrashed around.

Vergil had underestimated the strength of the Phantom's hide. When he hit it, he was reflected into the air, though a scream from the Phantom let him know that he had caused at least some damage.

The enraged Phantom started slamming it's claws at the wound inflicted, in an attempt to make it better, but of course only making it worse. It went berserk with the pain, and with a swing of it's claw, it managed to knock Vergil down.

Vergil was winded as he was pummelled against the ground. He didn't think that the claw would move that fast, proving to be a fatal error of judgement.

Unable to move, Vergil croaked for air as he watched the Phantom raise it's stinger above him. He knew that it was powerful enough to go right through him, and he judged by the location of the stinger that it would go straight through his temple, killing him instantly.

Time seemed to slow down for Vergil as the stinger sped ever closer in a thrusting motion.

Then Vergil saw his life passing before him.

His childhood years with his family.

His turning towards the darkness in his late teens.

His resurrection of the Temi-Ni-Gru at 19 years of age.

Him failing to Dante, then when he arrived at the room of fallen ones, foolishly challenging the prince of darkness, Mundus..

Then, something unfamiliar went through his mind, something that was completely new to him.

_Vergil roared as he charged at the three red orbs in the air before him. He knew what the three orbs represented, and the damage that they could do. He fully accepted his fate._

_The orbs seemed to fade for a while. Vergil halted. He could barely see the orbs, even with his inhuman vision. Then, eventually, the three orbs intensified in colour, but there was now eyes replacing the bottom two, and an indent on a forehead as the top. _

_The red faded completely, and before him stood the entire might of Mundus._

_Vergil's breath caught in his throat. He knew the damage that Mundus could inflict, and had heard of his might, but had no idea of his size. All he had seen were pictures in ancient manuscripts. Vergil had assumed that he was only human-size._

_Mundus' eyes and forehead flashed red again for about a split second, then three spears shot themselves into Vergil's body._

_Vergil could feel the energy being drained from him as he fell to his knees._

_His sight had become a blur, but he could feel himself being lifted into the air…_

The next he could see was:

_Complete blackness. But, he could hear something, and he sensed lesser demons around him. In the background there came a deep, booming voice._

"BEGIN_. I WANT THE SON OF SPARDA TO FORGET EVERYTHING. HE IS NOT TO REMEMBER WHO HE WAS, NOR WHAT HE SET OUT TO DO. HE WILL FIND A GREATER PURPOSE IN ME."_

_Then, came the sound of drills or some other sharp, spinning object, becoming ever louder by the second. He felt a bead of sweat drip from his forehead. The drills were approaching to his forehead._

_Then, as all was already black, the only noticeable change was temporary silence._

Then...

_He was kneeling before a giant throne. A throne that was his master. _

_He could feel the weight of the armour that he was bearing. It was part of him, of Nero Angelo. The black angel._

"_NERO," boomed the great statue "THERE IS AN UNINVITED GUEST. DISPOSE OF HIM AS YOU SEE FIT."_

_Suddenly, his head throbbed. Where was he? What was he doing? Why was he wearing this huge mask? As he tried to remove it, the statues face became bemused._

_Several lesser demons appeared around him. He reached for his katana._

_It wasn't there._

_Wasting a second to chance a glance, he noticed a large and burly sword where his beloved Yamato should have been._

_Then another servant of the statue appeared and pinned him down. His eyes widened. Mother?_

_Then, the sound of drills could be heard again._

"_ASCERTAIN IT STAYS SECURE THIS TIME," the statue spoke with clear aggravation "OR IT WILL BE THE LAST MISTAKE YOU MAKE."_

Next…

_He walked calmly out of the mirror, enjoying the shocked look on the intruders face as he watched his own reflection stand in front of him, then change into a completely different form._

_He clicked his fingers. The door to his right responded to his might and opened. Nero gestured towards the open door, then departed. _

_He jumped outside and onto the ramparts of the courtyard. He waited in silence as the intruder followed out in pursuit and jumped onto the ground below._

_Saluting, he raised his sword, then leaped down to begin the fight._

_The intruder fought well, he had to admit. There was something about him that was strange, though. All he could sense was a weak mortal, but the intruder had already proved that he was beyond that; he had kept himself alive thus far._

_Eventually, the two fought their way up to the highest ledge. He somehow had let the human get the better of him and felt the sting of the blade tear against his flesh and armour._

_Eventually, he went into hand-to-hand and let loose a devastating barrage of punches and kicks to the man's face and chest._

_Soon, he had the intruder right where he wanted. He had him pressed up against the wall. This human would die screaming for it's insolence...it should never have come to this place and displeased Nero's master._

_Then, an amulet of some kind showed itself from beneath the humans coat. _

_There was something strangely familiar with this artefact, as there was with the human. Then, he felt something inside him, something that wanted out…_

_Nero felt an unbearable pain. It was as if the sensation deep inside had a will of it's own and wanted to fight._

_He couldn't take this. He needed to escape. Letting himself dematerialise into vapour, he flew off._

After that, Vergil fought the intruder twice more. Once more in defeat, but for the third and final time, the strange throbbing pain in his head reoccurred.

_The searing agony tore through his head, and he felt his consciousness begin to slip. He dropped his blade and fell to his knees. The man in red lowered his weapon._

_Then, as his two tracks of consciousness fought, he was raised into the air, similar to the way that he had when he had first challenged Mundus. Rays of blue erupted from all around his body. The man in red watched in amazement below as Nero vanished in a flash of blue light._

_He found himself chained to a wall. He opened his eyes. He was in darkness, once again. A pain brought itself to his mind. His inner self still wouldn't give up…_

_Then, the three red orbs appeared, illuminating the pitch black room. It was only then that he realised the other company in the room. There, was the blonde woman from earlier, and she was holding a long blade with serrated edges._

"_HE HAS FAILED. KILL HIM." boomed the deep voice, in a casual voice._

_It was as if master didn't even realise that he was signalling for someone's death to come to an end. It was as if…master didn't care. That couldn't be possible he was master's favourite, his black angel._

_The blonde woman approached him, knife at the ready._

_He thrashed wildly, trying to free himself from his chains._

"_GIVE UP YOUR PITIFUL ATTEMPTS," Master said "YOU WILL ONLY TIRE. ACCEPT YOUR FATE"_

_Then, a sudden anger burned from within, and with it came a power. A power that he didn't know was there before._

_A tinge was added to the air around him. Not blue, as the rest of his body was, but red. The sensation within burned harder than it ever had before, almost making a hole in his mind._

_The colour reminded him forcibly of the human that had defeated him, but different. It was a darker shade of red, one that awakened the power of his inner self._

_With a heave, he ripped the chains from the wall._

_There was a gasp from the woman. She turned to Master for help, but none came. The orbs just laughed, as the terrified woman backed off._

_Ignoring the blonde, he used the chain as a weapon, then lashed out at…his previous Master._

_The old Master seemed unaffected, but faded away, the three floating red orbs just an apparition to give orders. His real master wasn't here. He turned to the woman. She hesitated for a moment, then fled._

_He felt himself weakening. He couldn't pursue her._

_As his former self slowly returned, his energy subsided. He reached weakly around his neck. He touched air._

_Where was it? Where was the amulet? Had he lost it? His mother's amulet? His _father's_ amulet?_

_He stumbled a few steps as his mind cleared of all thought and memory, then dematerialised one last time and flew off, in no particular direction, just to escape from this dreaded place…_

_Then, he saw his sudden awakening in a barren desert, not knowing where he was, or why he was so old, and so scarred. The last thing that he remembered was charging at Mundus…_

Vergil opened his eyes. He had just learned a lot. Why he had ended up in the desert, why he was missing his amulet, and what he had been doing from the time Dante had defeated him until now.

The stinger of the Phantom was just above his eye. Vergil stuck out his arm to try and stop it. He couldn't die. Not now…not after all that…

He caught the stinger in his hands and was crushed into the ground, but Vergil held on. The Phantom persisted, forcing it's stinger further down.

It became a battle of strength, and Vergil was losing his energy. Vergil knew that he wouldn't last long…

Then, something completely unexpected happened. In the distance, Vergil heard a rattle that he knew was gunfire.

A helicopter with camouflage paint appeared, with the side open, humans firing out. Vergil heard a loud bang from his right. He turned.

On the rooftops were two men, one lying down holding what looked like a sniper rifle, the other obviously his spotter.

**BANG!**

The Phantom that was currently bent on killing Vergil froze. It's eyes turned milky white, and the lava started flowing freely off it's body.

Vergil rolled over to avoid being burned. He looked behind the dead Phantom.

There, was a tank, it's turret pointing at the Phantom, the cannon steaming.

He turned around, and noticed Dante being hung and attacked by another Phantom. He gave a quick slash with Yamato. Even though it was some distance away, the stinger grasping Dante was cut by it.

Dante feel to the ground with a **thump**. He groaned as he got up.

"Nice one," he announced with relieved gratitude.

They both looked around at the battle.

Dante smiled as he noticed the new soldiers arriving.

"Finally. The military!" he stated cheerfully, dusting his coat.

Suddenly, a second wave of demons appeared from nowhere, the air itself seeming to shatter like glass as 'seven sins' demons appeared, and red circles that were portals appeared, Mundus-created demons such as Blades and Frosts leaping out. Dante and Vergil exchanged smirks. This was going to be fun.

They both let loose their inner power.

Dual spheres of light cut through the air, one red, the other blue. Dante and Vergil had turned into their devil forms.

There were several gasps coming from nearby soldiers. The bursts of light had grabbed their attention, and they noticed the two new types of demons appear. Firstly, Dante put both hands in the air to show that he didn't mean harm to them, then Vergil reaffirmed it by slicing at a hell-sloth that had teleported within his reach.

Battling with renewed vigour, the twins fought on. The added strength of the US military helped them to decimate the remaining demons.

Dante then noticed a helicopter jerking side to side dangerously, due to the amount of demons hanging on to it, trying desperately to carve the humans with their scythes.

Dante, with a whoosh, extended his wings. He bounded upwards, sending him flying into the air, then his wings caught wind and he zoomed up to the helicopter.

He swung Rebellion like a boomerang, the blade tearing off the arms of the demons, sending their bodies down to the ground below. He smiled at the shocked faces of the soldiers staring at him as he flew down.

As he descended downwards, he noticed a battle going on near some overturned traffic. He soared downwards in that direction. He blew up a huge amount of demons by shooting at an overturned oil-truck, igniting and burning all the enemies in the area. Smiling to himself, he landed on his feet. He took a look around. The battle was going in the humans favour at the moment, demons getting lead pumped into them left, right and centre.

Dante noticed a particularly able soldier blasting away. There was a hell-wrath behind him, about to blow up everything in the nearby vicinity.

Dante took no time in grabbing the man, flying off with him, then placing him on the ground.

There was a **bang** where the man once was.

The man in question, was terrified by Dante, and was already pointing his gun between Dante's eyes.

Another bang echoed through the air. The man expected Dante to fall, and screamed when he didn't.

A sphere of red light was sucked into Dante, then his human form could be seen again. Dante turned his back and walked off, stroking a pore on his head and shaking his head in irritation, mumbling darkly. The man was shaking, not quite believing what had just happened.

The remainder of the demons were easily wiped out, due to the increase in human numbers.

Dante noticed Vergil putting Yamato back into it's hilt as a blue sphere of light receded into him, revealing a human Vergil. He apparently felt he had done his job.

Several news vans reappeared and the soldiers formed into groups, awaiting further orders from an officer. No devil hunters were to be seen anymore, a sign that the sons of Sparda should take their leave also – devil hunters made a point of avoiding the public eye and news reporters.

Exchanging nods, the twins departed for home.

* * *

When they reached home, Dante raced to his favourite chair and sank into it. He smirked at a disgruntled Vergil.

With a sigh, Vergil grabbed onto the bottom of the chair and inverted it, pouring Dante onto the floor.

Vergil then placed it on a spot that he found suitable, then sat down on it.

Rubbing his bottom, Dante glared at him, then sat down on his desk chair.

"Wasn't so bad, huh Verge?" Dante stated with some small relief "All-out war my ass."

Vergil shook his head.

"That was only a mere battle," he replied simply "You know full well that there will be plenty more where that came from."

Dante did, and was only stating otherwise to kid himself. Vergil then seemed to realise something.

"Give me back my amulet," he demanded sharply.

Dante frowned in response.

"Don't play dumb with me, brother," Vergil snapped "I know you have my amulet and I want it."

Dante shook his head. He pointed to the wall, at Sparda.

"Take it, if you can," he said.

Vergil's eyes widened. This was the power that he had been searching for years, the power of his father, Sparda. The one thing that he had devoted his life to retrieving.

Even Arkham had never fully attained it. He had not possessed the blood of Sparda flowing through his veins, which was one of the most vital requirements. Vergil picked it up, performed a stylish flourish, then flicked it around, savouring every moment.

Then, the door leading upstairs opened, and out stepped Trish.

She suddenly gasped when she noticed the other occupant of the room.

Vergil turned to the source of the noise. His eyes widened and his jaw muscles tightened. His hand went white from gripping the sword.

Dante stood up suddenly. Vergil rarely displayed emotion. When something pissed him off to the extent where he looked angry, Dante knew he needed to act quickly.

Quick as a flash, Vergil brought Sparda upwards to rest just beneath her chin.

"_You"_ he hissed coldly.

Dante picked up Rebellion and brought it swiftly downwards, knocking Sparda away from Trish's throat.

"It's alright, Verge," he said calmly "she's okay, there's nothing to get worked up about."

Vergil glared at Dante, then at Trish.

She looked completely harmless. In fact, she was terrified by Vergil at the moment, remembering the situation that they had last met in. She was actually surprised that Vergil hadn't killed her on impulse already.

But, luckily, Vergil's patience matched his strength, and after taking several deep breaths, he calmed down, but still didn't seem happy to be in Trish's presence.

He turned towards Dante questioningly.

"Tell me something, brother," he said.

Dante nodded to show that he was listening.

"_Why_ did you decide to house scum such as _this_?" he asked, almost spitting the last few words out for effect.

"Because," Dante replied "she helped me defeat Mundus, and had nowhere to go,"

Vergil looked highly surprised.

"_You_ defeated Mundus?" he said, his voice taking a rare opportunity to show surprise.

Dante smirked.

"Thanks Vergil," he remarked with mock hurt.

For about a split second, Dante recognised something in Vergil's face as pride.

Dante then spun round to Trish.

"And you!" he announced irritably "Where were _you_ when demons were attacking downtown?"

"I was there!" she retorted indignantly "You didn't even acknowledge me!"

"I – ah -" Dante cut himself short " - I had more important things on my mind!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" Trish said, smiling slightly.

Then, cutting through the awkward silence that followed, the phone rang. Trish answered it.

She was silent for a moment, a surprised look to her face. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice quavering.

"Of course…they'll see you there."

She hung up and turned towards the twins, her face in deep awe.

"Who was it?" Dante enquired.

"Not exactly sure..." Trish replied, her voice still quavering "But it was from the government. They want you two to join in a meeting on the choice of action on the demons."

* * *

_Joe: All done, at long last._

_Please review, mkay? Or, just read on. This is one of those chapters I went back and edited._

_Also means I've nothing important to say._

_Ciao._


	3. The Treaty of Washington

_Disclaimer: If it's not already painfully obvious, I don't own Devil May Cry. Hence no 'Devil May Cry: Hell's Frontline' game._

_Joe: **NB: **This chapter has been changed from what it originally was. I feel that the way it was just didn't work, and am happy with the way it was now. I made these changed about the time I was writing the 23rd chapter. Nothing important to the plot has been replaced. Just to let you all know. :)_

* * *

A black Rolls-Royce limousine slowly turned to a road which led down to a large mansion. The windows were tinted black, so nobody could see it's occupants.

The jeep stopped at the large steel gates. The window opened up and pressed the beeper.

A speaker next to the beeper sounded. The voice speaking out of it was either tired, stressed or sick. It was a hoarse one, and pauses kept being taken after every sentence.

"_Who is it?…What do you want?"_ it croaked.

There was a swift conversation going on in the jeep, then another strange voice answered. This voice seemed much more confident, and had a definite tone to it, as if every word spoken had a unique purpose. It was deep and was almost spoken at a whisper.

If anybody had been around to eavesdrop, they would have been wasting their time. The reply was spoken in a strange language, one definitely from another land.

When the reply was spoken, the gates swung open, letting the jeep through. The jeep slowly drove up the road, which was decorated with trees and shrubs of all sorts, with the occasional fountain acting as a sprinkler.

The house itself was of Roman architectural style, with domes attached to some of the roofs. The large mahogany doors were polished to an immaculate sheen. They were decorated with carved lions heads, and the doors were flanked by pillars.

The drivers door opened, and the chauffeur stepped out. He opened the back door, stepped back and bowed with courtesy.

Out stepped a tall figure with a cloak. His face was hidden with a hood, and his hands were gloved. His feet weren't in view, as his cloak covered it.

The two walked slowly up the marble steps and to the door. The chauffeur obviously didn't sense anything out of the ordinary with the door, and proceeded to open the door for his passenger.

A loud shriek cut across the air as the chauffeur stood frozen, a look of pure anguish plastered to his face. The hand that was gripping the doorknob was trembling.

He fell on the ground in a heap.

Dead.

Though not visible to anyone, the hooded figure smiled. The fool should have known better. He knew what this place was, and who owned it. Opening the door should have left it to him.

He put his hand on the doorknob and opened it, unaffected by whatever killed his driver, and entered nonchalantly.

As he stepped inside, the door shut itself.

A butler greeted the figure and led him to the room that the Lord of the house was occupying.

The butler curtly bowed as the figure stepped inside.

The room appeared to be a living room of sorts, with an immense fireplace, polished shelves packed with ancient scrolls and scribes, a billiard table and a beautiful white grand piano.

At the moment, the piano was being played by who was most obviously the Lord of the place.

The music decorating the air had a cold, chilling vibe to it, and it seemed to lower the moods of anyone who listened to it's lamenting verse.

Upon seeing the guest, the player of the piano stood up with open arms.

He was a man of medium height. His hair was oily black, his skin was a white bleach colour, and his eyes seemed to be a dark shade of orange. His skin was completely devoid of signs of old age, in fact, his entire face was completely free of any lines at all, no wrinkles to note. At further inspection, one would conclude that his face was like one sculpted from stone; no traces of muscles, expression, or the slightest blemish on his visage were to be seen.

The two embraced, like brothers who had not seen each other in years.

"How long has it been?……my friend?" the dark haired man asked delightedly, his featureless face seeming to shine.

The hooded figure chortled.

"Quite a long while…around a millennia, perhaps?" he answered in his almost silent deep voice.

Anybody who would have been listening would have been puzzled by this past statement. However, the two didn't think that there was anything remotely out of the ordinary about this, and didn't waste time over it.

"Do you like the place?…I got it just recently!" the Lord stated cheerfully.

"About that," the figure said "wasn't this previously owned by a celebrity of some sort?"

"Ah yes, I had to kill him… I simply _needed_ this house for my own!…Of course, the authorities hadn't a clue of how the man really died, they thought that he had committed suicide…then I showed up and bought it shortly after, no questions asked!" he jabbered as excitedly as his limited English allowed. There was no hint of remorse or guilt for the horrible crime that he had committed.

"Also…" the figure said "about the door…"

"Liked that, did you?… I set it up myself, you see…don't want to have any lesser beings poking around here, you see…"

The hooded figure nodded again. Of course. That's why the chauffeur had died an instant death.

"That's all well and good," he said "but I am now short a method of transport."

The dark haired man chuckled, but didn't smile.

"Sorry about that…but, aren't you intending to stay a while?…even for a small while?"

The hooded figure nodded, smiling to himself under the hood.

The dark haired man sat down in a large silky chair, signaling for the hooded figure to follow suit.

"Aren't you going to take off that dreaded hood, Crìnge?" the dark haired man inquired, finally letting slip the name of the hooded figure.

Crìnge raised his hands over his hooded head, then yanked his hood down. His now revealed face was what immediately was labeled him as "strange", to one meeting him for the first time.

Above his eyes, in the centre of his forehead was a small red slit for unknown purposes and origins. His eyes were grey, and the rest of his face was completely normal, except for the fact that he, like the dark haired man, had no signs of age on him, though one also got a feeling that seemed otherwise from him. Though, his face still managed to show his emotions, unlike his friend. His hair, though, was a bright platinum silver, which reminded one of the Dark Knight Sparda.

He sat down comfortably, his face sighing with relief.

"Ah…finally…a chair that reminds me of old times…what fabric is it from?" he enquired.

"Arachne silk." the pale man replied.

Crìnge nodded.

"Of course…now, to business." he stated.

The dark haired man leaned forward on his chair, a look of interest reflecting from his eyes, as his featureless face showed nothing.

"The plan that has been spoken of is coming into place…there has even been a small riot in New York - the _'New York Massacre_'. Your doing, I presume?"

His friend, unable to smile, articulated his amusement with a small, disregarding wave of his hand.

"A bit obvious, wasn't it?…I never could resist the charm of Phantoms…"

Crìnge cleared his throat and continued.

"Anyway, the plan is coming into place, and everyone is expected to play their part,"

The dark haired man nodded.

"You particularly…after all, the plan was originally yours…"

Crìnge nodded.

"Yes, anyway…there is some things that must be taken into account… such as the defeat of Mundus."

The dark haired man gasped.

"You mean…you felt it too?…It is true, then?"

Crìnge nodded once more.

"Yes. Also, the human Arius has also fallen."

The dark haired man snorted derisively.

"That doesn't make much of a difference...he was always a mere mortal meddling in our affairs......he never was a valuable addition to the order…" he trailed off.

"Yes, but he was our main scapegoat for the unlikely occasion of failure," Crìnge continued "Anyway, the plan will still take place, even without Mundus' contributions. The demon world will unite with this world once again, then we will regain our old position as supreme species."

This troubled the pale man.

"But, without our scapegoat, what will happen if we fail?"

"Do not fear, Pontius," Crìnge said reassuringly "that only leaves us with more reason to succeed, doesn't it?"

The pale, dark-haired man, Pontius, nodded and grinned.

"Yes…you're right…there is only slim hope for the humans…"

He trailed off with a small sinister chuckle.

"Oh, and Pontius?" Crìnge suddenly said.

"What?"

"You really need to work on your human languages,"

"I know..." Pontius sighed "...I know...so blasted confusing...takes a long time to work out anything to say..."

Crìnge patted reaffirmingly him on the back.

"Don't worry, when we succeed, we will change the language back to Lìstook."

Pontius clapped his hands together in anticipation.

"Then we had better get started then, hadn't we?"

* * *

Dante gawked out of the window of the speeding jet that he and Vergil were now flying in. The jet was to take them to Washington, to the White House.

Trish had explained further over what they were to do. The meeting that they were joining was a international choosing on what to do, presidents and rulers from all over the world were coming. And they deemed the twins' presence necessary. Apparently, many soldiers and US officials had reported a story about two men in the New York massacre who seemed inhuman, and who were responsible for clearing up a staggering amount of the demons.

Their files were looked up, and although missing of many details (blood type, father's name and signature, etc.), was real. They had been chosen as experts on the subject at hand, and were more or less the only ones that seemed normal enough for the meeting.

At the moment, Vergil was complaining to another passenger about the turbulence, and about the lack of both food and refreshments. Dante contented himself with the on-flight movie - an old romanticised war veteran's movie. Cheap, crap, but time-consuming. Occasionally Vergil would call over the stewardess for the sheer hell of it, to argue over whatever he surmised was vaguely uncomfortable, food that was 'unsatisfactory', and just random complaints in general.

Despite that, Vergil was secretly pleased with the way that they had been picked up at the airport, by a man holding the sign stating in bold capitals their surname, "**SPARDA**". He also had secretly developed an attraction to the stewardess, which was secretly why he repeatedly called the poor woman over. He often took to staring at her when she wasn't looking, wondering whether or not to actually say something to those effects.

Finally, the jet landed, letting them get out of the jet.

They were picked up by a limo, much to Dante's delight. All the way through the journey, he kept rummaging excitedly around the provided mini-fridges in pursuit of some suitable beverage. Not finding any hard liquor, or even a canned beer, he gave up and sat back.

Eventually, they arrived at the destination.

The gate was opened for the limo as it approached, and the limousine drove slowly up the driveway. The chauffeur opened the doors for them.

Dante took a look around with a look of deep awe on his face. This was it. The White House. Vergil looked around, without awe, but still full of deep admiration of the place.

They were greeted inside by a secretary, who guided them to their rooms for their stay. Dante glanced around the room of marble and polished wood.

He nodded happily: it was up to expectations.

Vergil was less happy. He made several demands, most of which would cost a large sum of money.

Dante elbowed him irritably in the stomach.

"What're you doing?" he hissed "I'm not made of money!"

Vergil smiled.

"No, but the President is. We're here as his guests."

Dante's face went from annoyance to mischief.

He picked up the phone and ordered several more demands, a lot of which were associated with pizza and beer - and one strawberry sundae.

After about half an hour, the secretary poked her head in the door.

"They're waiting for you at the meeting, sirs."

Dante and Vergil exchanged anxious glances and left the room nervously.

* * *

The place of meeting was actually a few blocks away, in a special room for this kind of meeting.

It was circular in shape, with many desks facing the centre. The desks were curved to make them all fit. This also made the seating arrangements circular in shape. In the centre of the room was a podium.

Every desk had at the very least two chairs. One for the president/ruler of the corresponding country, and one for the interpreter.

The edges of the room were covered with cameras from news teams from all over the globe filming live. This one meeting decided the course of action that would change everyone's lives.

At the moment, people where just taking their seats, awaiting for the start.

Dante and Vergil looked around. They both knew that when they spoke, everybody in the entire world who has a T. V would see their faces on screen.

This wasn't an encouraging thought, and did little help to Dante's and Vergil's anxiety.

They both took their seats near the centre of the room.

The entire room became silent as the President of the U.S.A, President Raelson, stood up to the main desk and cleared his throat.

There were several flashed coming from cameras surrounding the room.

After clearing his throat once more, the entire stopped what it was doing.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," President Raelson spoke "We are all here today, standing before a single threat. A threat to humanity."

Dante and Vergil exchanged slightly more content faces. At least everybody here recognised how serious this problem was.

The President remained silent as the interpreters babbled their translations to their head of country.

Raelson continued after the room went silent again.

"Even during the times of War between ourselves, we must face this together. We must set our differences aside for at least the duration of this problem."

Again, he paused for the interpreters to translate.

"Many of you have suffered serious losses during the last few months, due to mysterious murders. Some of you have taken measures to stop blood-thirsty cultists taking more victims. Others will know the problem for what it is."

The interpreters translated.

"But, if we do not act quickly, as one, we will be swept out. Every single one of us. We cannot face this individually, or we will all face the consequences."

Translation ensued.

"That is all I know on the matter. Here, are two men recognised by the U. S army and police force as only half-human."

The translation this time was a little scattered, many of the interpreters struggling to understand what the president had just said, finding it hard to believe their ears.

Raelson continued.

"Make no mistake, these men are fully dedicated to the human race, and are ready to die for it. They know much more on the subject than anybody else present."

The president stepped away from the centre of the room.

Dante and Vergil stood up and slowly walked to the large desk. Dante fitted the microphone to between them, and looked out at the large crowd of people.

He noticed the cameras and felt a bead of sweat drop from his forehead. Vergil noticed this and decided to speak first.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he started, using the all time classic opener "My brother and I are here to inform you about the enemy at hand. Do not think that these are merely a form of cult that has managed to grow and spread out of your knowledge. These are, as almost all religions have in them, demons."

The room went silent for a second, then the shocked interpreters informed their leaders of what Vergil had just said. As soon as they finished, a low murmur spread across the room. No-one had expected something such as this to occur at a meeting like this. Many of the leaders thought it was some form of joke and argued crossly with their interpreters.

Dante was not just nervous because of the cameras, but of their implication. Before this, he had avoided the public eye, especially the media. People had hostile reactions to that which was different, even to fellow humans, but since Dante was half-demon he knew that it was in his best interests to keep mainly to himself. Here he was now, the eyes of the world upon him, branding him inhuman for everybody to see.

But he knew that the meeting would be a failure if continued going the way it was, and that he needed to give input. He was already identified, there was no point in him keeping silent.

Dante cleared his throat, and the murmurs died down temporarily."I can see most of you are finding it hard coming to grips with what my brother has said..." Dante paused to gulp and regain his confidence "But it is of...utmost importance that we take action now. Whether or not you believe in demons, you all have to accept that millions are dieing - billions more, if we don't do something about it. And because of this, I'm certain that you will all be sensible enough to contribute wholly to this meeting."

He allowed a small recess in his speech for the translations.

That was it for one leader. The leader of the Communist party of China stood up, furious.

He spoke in heated Chinese for a second. The room was silent, then the interpreters translated to their respective heads of state. The U.S president was seated close to the podium, so the twins could hear the English translation.

"I am a man of honour, and do not take to distasteful jokes such as this. All I know is that my people are dying, and there is nothing to do to stop it. Please, stop this poor joke and let us face this problem properly."

There were several murmurs of approval coming from the room.

Dante grunted irritably, and Vergil sighed. Vergil had a feeling something like this would happen.

"Look," Vergil announced, and Dante noticed irritation in his voice "We've made it painfully clear that we are in no position to waste time. We're telling you the situation – if you don't like it, that's your business, but don't let the rest of us suffer because of it – we need everybody's cooperation. If you leave here without recognising the situation and without contributing to any arrangement from the meeting, we can't be held responsible for the blood on your hands."

The translation this time was slow, the interpreters having a lot to interpret.

The leader of China was still standing, and spoke up again, but not as angrily.

Again, the twins waited for the translation.

"A heartfelt speech I must admit, but you have yet to prove anything to us about these "demons". Not for a moment did I ever deny to the need to take action, so excuse me if it seemed otherwise, yet I feel the problem cannot be properly confronted unless we look at it seriously."

Raelson rose from his seat then strode up to the podium and answered for the twins. He did not look pleased.

"It offends me that it enters any of our minds that this is a joke. I vouch personally for the Sparda brothers, and for any progress I expect the rest of you to do so as well. Have all of you so little confidence in the United States that you feel it would joke and waste time in an emergency such as this?! Your attitudes right now are nothing less than an insult. I will refer you back to the twins."

Without another word, Raelson returned to his seat amidst the mutters of the translators.

The leader of China sat down quietly.

Vergil spoke into the microphone again in a carefully measured tone.

"We are not here today to tell you that it is too late. We are here to tell you to unite, to defend yourselves. It is now the time to agree, now is the time to start."

Another pause for the translation. Vergil spoke again.

"When we say now, we mean _now_. In a vote of hands, we must now decide over who will contribute to our defence."

The English-speaking countries raised their hands and stood up immediately, the others raised theirs once they found out what it all meant.

Dante nodded with satisfaction. About damn time. Progress.

Their contribution made, the twins sat down and Raelson stood back up to re-address the conference on the next item of business; the actual written, legitimate contract for the alliance.

The following hours were spent devising terms for a cease-fire between each other, and a military alliance. It was only temporary, Raelson repeatedly made clear, in order to keep certain states happy. Many had current scores to settle between each other once this demon business was dealt with.

The main points of dispute was how much each state would put into an alliance, any royalties each country was entitled to in each other's affairs in the course of the war (which was where Raelson's main point of interest lied), and any tributes and war-economy interdependance. Many states were previously unable to finance a war to the degree which was promised to occur.

This didn't take long, partly because of the reassurance that the agreement was temporary, partly because of the pressure that was being placed on each head of state, and partly because of the dire circumstances that many accepted they were already in.

Documents were formed, signatures were made, and the necessary formalities associated were made. The Treaty of Washington was quickly made in terms of treaties; only a couple of hours, interrupted occasionally by short breaks.

Dante and Vergil exchanged contented, yet slightly tired looks. It had finally happened. In a few more minutes of arrangements, they would be ready.

The humans were now joining the battle.

* * *

_Joe: Since this chapter's a replacement, there's nothing important to put here. There may also be some small changes I made elsewhere that aren't important enough to make a fanfare of it._

_Anyways,_

_Ciao._


	4. Garm

_Disclaimer: Don't own Devil May Cry, etcetera, etcetera._

_Joe: Again, this chapter's a replacement. Be aware that there are other altered chapters, but I haven't changed the authors notes to tell you about it._

_

* * *

_

Pontius and Crìnge were watching the television by a blazing fire. On the television could be seen:

_News at 6: Live Update._

The news lady was droning on about the conference that had occurred at Washington during the past hour. Apparently, a treaty had been made over what to do with the demon attacks.

_"We will now go to our correspondent in Washington, Barry Higgins," the news lady stated._

_The screen was split in two as new footage was added. The filming was taking place in the treaty room, though the only remaining head of state was Raelson. The president was standing by a podium with a microphone, and there was a crowd of journalists asking questions._

_Barry Higgins, the newsman present for that station was giving the basis over what had happened over the past hour or so._

_He went silent when the president begun his official speech for the meeting:_

_"During the past 11 hours, the heads of states throughout the globe have been debating over the choice of action, in this very room. We have arrived at the conclusion that a military force is the only way to deal with the current situation, and a united force at that." he anounced loudly and clearly to the astonished reporters._

_He waited for a media representative to enquire. He was not disappointed._

_"How are the government planning to do this?" one asked._

_"I will hand that question to the Sparda brothers, our new military officials, who are experts on the subject." Raelson replied, gesturing to his side, where the previously unnoticed twins stood._

_Dante and Vergil made a swift and hushed argument over who should speak first. Dante felt that he had done enough debating for the next two years. He had never spoken so much to the public, and was shocked when he thought back and seen how he had acted._

_Vergil felt nervous and almost afraid. During the past hour, he had not only admitted to being half demon, but had done it in the watchful glance of the entire globe. He didn't know how the heads of state would react, having a part demon telling them how to deal with his own kind. He was surprised that he hadn't been greeted with hostility._

_In the end, they both stood up and walked up to the podium. The president stepped aside courteously._

_Dante chose to speak first despite himself._

_"Our only way to defeat the demons at hand is to defeat their leaders. If the leaders are not killed, the enemies soldiers will only multiply without end," he said grimly "Unless these higher-devils are taken out of the picture, the frontline armies of the demons will never end."_

_Vergil spoke up, seeing his brother falter. Dante had gone off topic: the journalists didn't want to hear anything about 'demonic' tactics. It took a lot of time to convince a room of heads of state, he couldn't imagine how long it would take to convince the world, or at the last the newspapers for the time being. All the reporters wanted to know was what the meeting had decided on, not what it's motives were, or what the purpose of the treaty was. They would argue amongst themselves, no doubt, over the existance of demons._

_"I understand that all of the globe's military efforts have been amalgamated in hopes of staging a more successful defence. This remains purely a matter of economy and allegiance. Each country is still given the power to order it's own troops, but remain loyal to the cause. My brother here and I have also been given authority of Generals of the US army, and hope to provide our combat expertise to the situation."_

_There was scattered muttering in the crowd in light this statement. Not many of these people believed the two brothers. Nor did they believe in demons, and thought that they were only myths and superstition._

_Secondly, why were these two men suddenly new military officials? Just because they were "experts" on the subject? A subject that barely anyone believed in in the first place?_

_Dante and Vergil waited for further questioning._

_"Is that all? No other terms of the treaty? Is there no new regulations to follow? No new special agency for the 'subject'?" another person asked._

_Vergil took this one, again._

_"A curfew has also been issued. No person is to be out after midnight, as the risk of being murdered is too high," he answered "Also, it has been decided for each country to establish a civil militia to combat demons locally. How each state deems fit to carry this out is their own decision. Another new addition is the combat blades that are being handed to military soldiers, and to police. Blades are more useful when a demon is present, as guns do not affect them as much. A bullet to the head will not kill them."_

_There was no silence after this reply, as people were considering that the twins were serious. Federal conferences were not made to just to get attention; the Government had to be telling the truth. If a threat was not worldwide, so many heads of state would not have been invited, and it didn't seem that global warming would justify such a treaty. One or two journalists actually believed in demons on a personal level, but didn't say anything publicly._

_"About this curfew…" a female reporter asked._

_"Yes?" Dante responded, having better aptitude with talking to women._

_The woman was at a loss for words for a while._

_"Are you serious?" she spluttered eventually._

_Dante nodded, as words were not necessary._

_There was some more mutterings._

_Barry Higgins asked a question, this time about demons, which heartened the twins._

_"What about the opposition? Are they the clichè, theological demons, as in some religions, or something else that was assigned a nickname?"_

_"They are as some religion state," Vergil answered "They are evil itself, in the flesh, not just theologically. They are cunning, vicious, intelligent monsters that have no pity, mercy or remorse, and as such will not hesitate to kill you if they get the chance. Unlike in theological terms, there are countless breeds and some can shift forms or possess others. You can never tell if a demon is around you are not, especially in these troubled times. Do not trust anybody you meet at first, as they might be demons."_

The television exploded.

One of the two men watching it could not bare to watch any more.

"Such anger, Crìnge?" Pontius chortled, unable to suppress the humour in his tone.

Crìnge glared back, a red tinge fading from his top eye where he had focused the attack from.

"The humans are onto us. They know of our plan," he snapped.

Pontius shrugged, not accepting this as a genuine problem.

"So what?......The order will be able to handle it," he stated simply.

Crìnge shook his head.

"Even if that is so, did you not recognise those two men?" he said impatiently.

Pontius shrugged a second time.

"They were human...the governments were probably bluffing when they said that these were demons," he said lightly.

Crìnge looked like he could have punched Pontius right there and then. The slit over his colourless eyes opened up and another eye leered out, this one with a red tinge to it.

"No!" he snapped angrily "You should know better! Did you not recognise that aura?"

Pontius shook his head quietly, slightly cowed at his friend's uncharacteristic bout of anger. Crìnge explained_._

"Think, Pontius! They were no humans! At least, not fully human. They are the sons of Sparda!" he said, his voice becoming more urgent as the sentence progressed.

Pontius seemed to finally accept this as a problem, placing his hand to his chin.

"Then…this could be a problem…more of our order might fall to them…" he muttered darkly.

Crìnge suddenly appeared to remember something, the sentence that Pontius had spoken seemed to inform him of some forgotten deed to be done.

"About the order, we need to hold a meeting, to see who is still alive, and who is deceased...and, of course, to discuss our...business plan"

Pontius' eyes expressed his confusion to his old friend, as his face was unable to show anything.

"A meeting?...Where?"

Crìnge gave Pontius a small smile.

"Where else? Here, of course! The humans will not expect a meeting of such importance to occur here, on a remote island, will they? Many will not have even heard of Vie De Marli…"

_

* * *

_

Dante was slowly edging nearer to sleep as he looked out the mirror of the return jet to New York, his home city.

Even though he and Vergil were, as announced earlier, military officials, Dante had demanded that he was to be called into action only when something happened that required his specific attention. He would be interested to take part in missions with the army, truth be told. During his childhood, one of his early fantasies was of being an 'army-man'.

His thoughts were becoming murkier by the second, as his lack of sleep for the past while was finally getting to him.

On the aisle seat beside him, Vergil was the contrary.

At the moment, he was eyeing the stewardess again. He was used to staying awake during long periods. This was mainly due to the fact that he only slept when he felt safe and secure. He didn't trust the night-time as a suitable place to rest. He was aware of the fact that, if anybody wished to kill him, they would kill him when they thought he was asleep. Which would supposedly be during the night. Of course, Vergil would be ready for them when they came.

Casting such thoughts from his head, he made his move when he was sure that Dante wasn't watching him.

He stood up and approached the stewardess.

Dante was too sleepy to notice Vergil's sudden movement, and fell into a comfortable slumber.

Vergil ended up with a cold shut-down. Dejected and disappointed, he sat back down on his seat wondering what he did wrong. After shoving a sleeping Dante out of the way, Vergil stared blankly out of the window.

After an otherwise uneventful flight, they reached the airport in New York.

Vergil kept a rigid posture as he strode past the stewardess. Dante of course, while he was still in Vergil's sight, flirted with her.

He arrived home with two black eyes, a bleeding nose and a red hand mark on his cheek. The hand mark from the stewardess, and the rest from an infuriated Vergil.

Rubbing his aching face, he opened the door to the Devil May Cry and received a hug from Trish in greeting. Vergil stayed well clear, as he was still suspicious of her.

Dante yawned and told them that he was heading to bed, and to tell any callers that he would call back a different time.

This led to an awkward silence in the room, with only Trish and Vergil left inside.

After a while, Trish stated that she would go upstairs for a while, and hurried out of Vergil's presence.

Another silence filled the room.

Sighing heavily, Vergil looked around for something to do. He noticed the wall filled with weapons. No, he wasn't in the mood for swordplay, for once. He looked out the window. Too wet for a walk.

Then, desperately, he looked at the TV. It was this or nothing. Having a quick argument, he was about to decide upon the latter, but thought better of it.

He flicked it on and sank himself lazily on Dante's favourite chair.

There was nothing on but the news coverage from his earlier conference. Even the non-news channels were showing it, as it was hugely important. Not caring to revisit it, he continued to flick through. Nothing but the treaty. Just perfect.

So, having nothing better to do, he snatched Dante's wallet from the counter and walked out, placing his coat slightly over his head and hurrying beneath the rain.

_

* * *

_

He ended up inside an Irish-oriented bar called _McKeogh's_, and entered. Vergil wasn't usually the drinking type, but he made an exception due to his obscene boredom. Inside though, he could instantly tell that this was not a friendly pub. He got nothing but glares and narrowed eyes from the occupants. There was an awful smell, one that Vergil knew too well. Blood.

Vergil sensed demons. To a human, it would have seemed perfectly normal, and they would happily have gone inside and had a drink. And pay the price later. For, the apparent humans were just dead shells which the demon host dominated after killing the original owner. Some were conspicuous, others less so. For example, one man by the poker table had a deadly gash across his chest, the clothing stained with congealed blood. A fatal gash, Vergil could conclude. The human, if it were still in control of it's body, would be either dead or dying. Plus, Lesser demons don't often take articles of clothing into consideration with a disguise - if it's prey's clothes are splattered in blood, they don't realise that it could give their disguise away..

He slowly sat down on a barstool and faced the barman. He wasn't human either. If the barman wasn't human, it stood to reason that the rest of the bar weren't.

He was a higher class demon, he could tell, as he sensed a strong enough power inside it. Probably a Goatling of some form and rank, possibly Abyss. Anyway, the curfew would be taking effect in about half an hour.

The disguised Goatling turned to face him, and his face immediately went dark. He knew who this stranger was, as did almost everyone in the world by now.

"What'dya want?!" he snapped.

Vergil raised an eyebrow. This demon was an imbecile. It should have been able to sense Vergil's power, and recognised it as superior. It shouldn't have acted hostile anyway, just for the sake of keeping his true identity secret.

"Anything heavy," Vergil answered. He originally just wanted to experiment with some drinks, but now had found something better to do; Vergil had decided to play along with the barman for a while, just for humour's sake. Yamato was sheathed under his coat.

The barman shook his head.

"Not serving you, bye," he said in a low growl.

Vergil resisted a smirk.

"Why not?" he replied, putting on an air of indignance.

The barman closed his eyes for a small while, then, when he opened them, they were a deep shade of red. So he wasn't deciding to keep in character, then.

His skin ripped, and wings tore out from the back. Blood and water flooded the floor, and the organs fell to the floor with a squelch as the demon host released itself. Vergil could that it was indeed an abyss goat. The strongest of all the Goatlings.

The rest of the bar took notice to this and ripped out of their disguises as well. Vergil couldn't help but to make a face of disgust. He knew that trick himself, but being half-human, he never needed it. The soul of the human was long gone, but it was still a horrible sight to behold, watching the skin rip and the innards flow out as the occupant demon burst out.

Vergil unsheathed Yamato and put on a fighting stance, then used his left hand to tease the enemy into making it's move first.

The Abyss Goat gave a deafening roar into Vergil's face, saliva splattering onto him.

Faster than you could blink, Vergil unsheathed, flourished, then stabbed his katana through the open mouth of the roaring Goat, then carved upwards, cleaving it's face in two.

The Goat "Mooed" as it fell. Vergil yanked Yamato out of the dead demons back. He had managed to stab it through the back of the Goat's heart.

He turned to the rest of the demons. None of them, he bet, would hesitate in slaughtering him with their bare hands. He was one of the two half-demons that had practically advertised his deathwish ouy for disguised demons to see.

All of these were high enough ranking, he noticed. This would take a while.

He focused his thoughts on an encircling Abyss; a blood red, glorified Hell pride. Then again, Vergil pondered, Abyss demons themselves were strong enough, and were normally used in times of war…

Then he smiled as he charged forward and headbutted the Abyss before it even saw Vergil move. This was a time of war, and he would have some fun before it was over.

Yelling as loud as he could, he charged at the remaining group, Yamato held at his side.

* * *

Dante jerked awake, sweating. Something was wrong. And this time, he knew that it wasn't a microwave malfunctioning.

He got up and dressed himself. He knew that he was needed somewhere.

He ran downstairs and told Trish to grab a weapon.

"I'll explain later," he said hurriedly to her as she opened her mouth to inquire.

He threw Sparda at her and took Rebellion for himself. Trish snatched Sparda in mid-air with a single hand, right on the handle. It was second nature to her, almost like breathing. After all, she was originally made as a warrior.

"Where the hell is Vergil?" he snapped, knowing that this was wasting time.

"VERGIL! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!" he bellowed loudly.

No reply.

Trish ran upstairs to find him, and Dante only stood there, waiting.

The clock was ticking.

With a frustrated grunt, Dante stomped outside and got on the motorbike. Vergil could wait until next time.

Dante revved the motorbike, signalling for Trish to hurry. He wasn't disappointed. Almost the second after he had revved, she sprinted into sight and leaped onto the bike.

Pulling the bike, Dante wheelied and turned at the same time, forcing the bike to spin to face the direction of the road.

Engine roaring, they departed towards the general direction where Dante sensed trouble from.

When they arrived at the bar, they suddenly saw a Frost hurtling out of the window, smashing it and still flying.

Dante barely managed to get the bike out of the way in time.

Dante and Trish exchanged glances. They could sense that there was something powerful in there.

But, Dante suddenly smirked when he recognised the aura inside. Vergil. He was always the first one there when action was about.

Dante kicked open the door to find Vergil slicing through the midriff of a Plasma, the two halves quickly forming two smaller versions of their former self.

With a roar, Dante leaped onto the back of a nearby Abyss Goat and pulled hard at it's ears.

The Goat shrieked and flailed wildly in an attempt to get the hindrance off of it's back, thrashing wildly. But, to no avail. Dante clung on as hard as he could, all the while pulling at the Goat's ears.

Eventually, there was a sickening sound cutting through the air as the ears were tugged right off from it's skull.

Dante landed on the ground, then turned to face the Abyss Goat, who had gone berserk with the pain. With his shoulder, he butted the Goat down onto it's back and jumped on it's unprotected stomach.

The breath was knocked from the Abyss Goat and it was unable to move as Dante shoved it's own ears down it's throat, choking it. With a horrible gagging cough, the Abyss Goat suffocated with it's own ears caught in it's throat.

Dante smiled as he turned to face an extremely repulsed Trish.

He then turned to Vergil, to see how he was getting on. Vergil had just done a tricky manoeuvre where he had ducked an Abyss' scythe, but had pulled another into the path of the blade. While they were still confused, he pushed one on top of the other, knocking the both of them onto the ground, one on top of the other. As they were struggling awkwardly to get up, Vergil brought his katana swiftly down, killing the both of them.

Then, the air itself seemed to distort as red filled the room.

Another wave of demons appeared, weapons at the ready. Dante looked out of the window.

All that was to be seen was red, slightly illuminating the midnight streets.

His thoughts only went back to the situation at hand just before a Frost's ice projectile scraped through his hair.

He sent a shockwave through the ground at the enemy in question from Rebellion, instantly killing it.

He sprinted towards the phone. He knew that the three of them would not be enough for this onslaught. He dialled the first number that came to his mind.

Beep…beep…

"Hello?" greeted a familiar, tired voice.

"Lady?!" Dante rasped "thank God! I need your help! McKeogh's, straight away!"

There was a slight pause.

"Are you kidding me?" came the reply "At this hour? We can go out some other night. What is it, need gambling money quick?"

Dante made an angry noise with his throat.

"Now's not the time for that! Hurry! I can't do this without reinforcements!"

Lady seemed to mumble to herself for a second or two, only realising then that Dante was having demon problems.

"What's the problem? How many, and what?" she asked eventually, at last sounding concerned.

"There's tons of them here, there's a variety as well," Dante answered "You might need to round up some other Devil Hunters for this!"

Lady was just about to answer to this when the swirling blade of a dead sin-scissors cut through the line.

"You need to watch your back, Dante!" Trish called out from behind him.

Dante turned around, there, was a sin-scissors dematerialising due to Sparda imbedded in it's mask.

"Thanks," he grumbled as he dropped the phone line.

The demons in the bar had all been vanquished, but the twins still sensed an entire crowd of them somewhere. Dante looked around. Nothing.

Vergil kicked open the door and walked out with the rest of them following suit.

The rain had stopped, fortunately, but the trio would rather rain as opposed to what they were currently experiencing. Demons were materialising everywhere and almost literally popping out of nowhere. Many Devil Hunters were already out and about, taking out all they encountered throughout the streets.

But the three could definitely sense something bigger. Something that was a genuine threat. But it wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Let's have a look around. It has to be around here somewhere," Trish stated to the twins, who nodded.

They patrolled around, killing random demons they came across, helping out other Devil Hunters, but all the while attempting to narrow down the large devil they could feel was close.

They eventually entered a theatre in pursuit of the large devil. They always seem to go for the dramatics...

A strange noise coming from the stage alerted the trio when they entered. The noise erupted a second time. Dante leaped onto the stage to find out what was there.

Vergil stood still, waiting for Dante's sighed and relaxed his grip on his guns.

"It's only a dog!" he called out.

And, sure enough, a dog plodded out from behind the curtains. A small puppy, to be more precise.

Vergil and Trish relaxed as well, a little ashamed. They had let a measly mutt give them the creeps. But then again, everyone was sure that there was something powerful nearby...

Dante reached out his hand to pet the little dog. It was something like a mix of Alsatian and Labrador, though much smaller, and it looked a lot gentler. It approached Dante's arm slowly, and cautiously, as if afraid. Dante smiled, then signalled to show that he meant no harm.

The dog seemed to sneeze loudly.

Dante jumped.

"What's wrong?!" Vergil taunted loudly from his place in the seats.

Dante turned indignantly to face him, his face showing anger. He ignored the dog as it seemed to sneeze again, though this time much louder.

"We're going. There's clearly nothing here, kay, hon?" Trish called out.

Dante nodded and walked after them when something caught his attention. The dog was having increasingly violent sneezes, and was following Dante.

It was then that Dante noticed what he was sensing. The dog sneezed again, though this time he seemed to swell in size, growing larger.

Dante froze in his tracks.

"What's the hold up?" Vergil could be heard from the main hallway by the entrance.

"I think you'd better see this!" Dante replied.

The dog sneezed again, though this time, sparks erupted from his nostrils.

Dante pointed Ebony and Ivory at it. This was definitely a demon. Vergil peeked his head from the doorway.

"I do not care for dog tricks, Dante! This had better be worthwhile!" he remarked as the rest of his body followed.

Vergil also seemed to freeze. He noticed the difference in the dog's size as well.

The dog sneezed several times in a row, each time swelling to a new size.

Vergil unsheathed Yamato and pointed it at the dog's throat, turned to nod at Dante, then stabbed.

There was a small chink as the blade was reflected, the throat unscathed.

By now, the sneeze was recognised for what it really was. An incantation, in the canine's own words. It couldn't be called a dog any more. It was already bigger than a Saint Bernard and still growing. Plus, dogs don't exhale smoke.

The hair had seemed to turn into bristles by now, and were sharpening after each time it swelled.

Dante finally decided that he didn't like this dog, and brought Rebellion down hard on it's temple. To no effect.

"What are you two _doing_?" Trish remarked impatiently as she strutted inside.

She pointed her handguns at the dog's throat.

"What _is_ this abomination?" she spat.

Dante shook his head as the dog grew over his own size.

The three retreated slightly, and Dante and Trish opened fire with their handguns.

Eventually, it's head smashed the roof off, and it roared into the sky.

Dante examined this new creature. He had never seen anything like it. The closest thing to it was Cerberus, but this thing had many differences.

It had only one head, and breathed out smoke. It's fur had grown from hair to bristles, then finally to spear-like spikes, though it proportionally too long for it. Comparitive to the rest of the demon, it only seemed like pointy hair. It's eyes had gone red, and multiple rows of jagged teeth had extended in it's open jaw. It's claws had grown longer, as had it's tail, which had spikes going along it, and the tip of it resembled a mace.

The roar had obviously been heard from outside, as some police and Devil Hunters had taken notice and investigated.

The canine finally seemed to notice the people around it, as it stomped it's paw over where Dante had been the second before he dodged.

Dante struck it with Rebellion, but again to no effect. The canine just swiped at him with his claws in retaliation. Dante let out a cry of pain as he was knocked into the wall.

Vergil gave a lightning-fast slash, which would normally slice far-away objects, but the canine didn't seem to feel it. The police were by now firing at it from all angles, and were already requesting back-up from the SWAT team. Also, Lady and a large team of Devil Hunters had arrived at the door and had begun attacking.

With renewed fervour, Dante rushed and stabbed forward into the canine with Rebellion, once again dealing no damage.

He looked at Vergil, who had just been standing aside for the past while, observing.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Dante barked.

Vergil smiled at Dante's annoyance.

"I'm studying it's movements, as attacking doesn't seem to be having any affect," he explained to a furious Dante.

Then, Vergil's face paled and his eyes widened.

"What?!" Dante snapped, unaware of the great shadow appearing in front of him.

Vergil rolled quickly out of the way of a giant claw hurtling downwards.

Dante was not so lucky, and he was flattened under the gargantuan claw. The claw stayed there for a few minutes, not showing any signs of moving, Dante being crushed underneath it.

Vergil gave out a roar and leaped into the air in front of the canines face, then stood between the two eyes and grabbed on as tight as he could.

The canine shook it's head wildly, trying to get Vergil off from it's face. It ignored the missile that had been fired at it's underbelly - from Lady, as there was impenetrable spikes there as well. Lady cursed and tried a different spot.

Clinging on, Vergil just managed to bring Yamato swiftly down onto one of the canines eyes, then jumped off.

Shrieking, the canine stumbled, having lost the sight in one of it's eyes, though leaving it's front-left claw unmoved. The one that Dante was currently under.

Vergil cursed as he rolled out of the way of a flailing mace-tail. Dante could possibly be dead by now.

Then, to his relief and surprise, there was a flash of red coming from underneath the canines paw.

The claw seemed to shudder and raise a small bit, then the canine tried to push it back down.

Dante, just visible, was in his demon form and pushing upwards for his life. He was groaning, obviously under tremendous strain.

Vergil let loose his demon side as he rammed himself into another of the canine's feet. The canine didn't stand a chance against the combined strength of the Sparda brothers, and was flung into the air.

Lady shrieked as she barely managed to evade the falling canine.

"Okay?" Dante laughed in a distorted voice.

Lady couldn't help trembling when she nodded. No matter how many times she saw it, Dante's demon form would always creep her out.

The canine let out a groaning noise as it rose to it's feet. Then, it's spikes seemed to shine, exactly the same way it did when it deflected something, as if light was pouring onto it.

There, at the doorway, was the SWAT team, firing thier submachine guns, shotguns, and grenade launchers at the beast, a continuous hail of fire harrassing the beast.

Dante flew up to the canine's other eye and let loose with Ebony and ivory, firing round after round of bullets through it's eye. The canine roared in pain as it went swiftly mad. It was now completely blinded, and all it had now was smell, hearing and demon senses. It's smell was now the primary sense, as it had the combined smell of dog and demon, and could almost make an exact picture of it's surroundings.

Dante landed and returned to his human form. He noticed the dog smash into the crowds, killing several cops. It's actions had become increasingly infuriated, and it had nothing to lose any more.

Vergil jumped onto it's back and tried to inflict some meaningful damage again, but only ended up scraping himself on the spikes. He jumped down beside Dante, his expression anxious.

"How are we going to pull this one off?" he asked with slight worry.

Dante shook his head. He had absolutely no idea. He turned his attention to Trish. She was shooting as much as she could at the canine, emptying entire clips at a time.

Then, it hit Dante. There was one thing that they hadn't tried.

Using Sparda.

"TRISH!" Dante bellowed, then dodged as the canine followed the source of noise. "GIMME SPARDA! HURRY!"

Thinking fast, she hurled the legendary blade as fast as she could. Dante jumped into the air and caught it. This Blade was unbreakable, as far as he knew.

He put his hand to his mouth and produced a loud whistle, much as he would in order to call a pet dog.

The canine turned and roared at the source of the noise, then charged.

Dante held Sparda at his side and charged at it as well.

He dodged swiftly under the canine's stomping feet, then brought Sparda upwards, digging into it's underbelly, which was most likely it's weak spot.

Success.

The canine flailed madly, knocking Dante to the ground and Sparda into the air.

Dante coughed up blood before he banged his head against the stone floor, knocking him out.

Sparda went spinning through the air, making a whoosh sound. The canine opened it's mouth to snap at it.

Then, Vergil went up to grab Sparda first. It was his turn with it. For the first time, Sparda's other son used his Legendary blade in battle for the first time.

Then, the canine snapped and swallowed him whole.

There was a shocked silence in the room for about a second, until the canine roared, breaking it.

Screaming, Trish fired madly at the dog. Lady chose the best action at the moment, and shot a missile into the spot where Dante had stabbed Sparda.

The canine yelped and thrashed at the miniscule figure underneath it. Lady was knocked into the nearest wall, meeting the same fate that Dante did.

Then, the canine pined loudly, for some unknown reason.

The tip of a shining dark red blade was showing just above it's temple; something was stabbed through the cavern of it's mouth from the inside. Then, Sparda extended.

The canine shrieked incredibly loudly as it fell to the ground with a resounding _crash_. The top of it's head was almost like a fountain at the moment, blood gushing into all directions.

The canine's mouth was opened from the inside by a figure shining the same colour as the sword it was carrying.

If any demon hunters there knew their history, they might have claimed it to be Sparda himself, come to save the day. Then, a sphere of dark red light closed in around the figure, showing who it really was.

Vergil stepped off of the canine's lolling tongue, slapping the blood off of his blue coat.

_

* * *

_

_Joe: How 'bout that, huh? My first original boss. Picture it as the same kind of dog as Cerberus, but fire breathing, and covered in spikes instead of hair. And, it only has one head. For reference's sake, it's name is Garm._

_Yet again, I'll say that this is a fixed chapter. The date at the time was the 16th of October 2008. When I first wrote this chapter it was the 8th of March 2006. The time flies by, doesn't it? The fic was called "The Justice Within Two Evils" back then, too._

_Ciao._


	5. Tailor and Battle at Sea

_Disclaimer:- Anything that's copyrighted in this story is not owned by me._

_Joe: Yes, I know. I don't normally put up a disclaimer, but I just found out (thanks to a **very** informing reviewer) that I actually have to put one up every chapter…this got old before it even started…_

_Well, here we go._

* * *

A military member swooped past Dante, knocking his drink over. Dante glared at the man as the man sprinted over to the side of the boat and got sea-sick over the side.

Dante's drink was now all over the floor, and more importantly, his pants. Right between his legs.

He would never hear the end of it from Vergil.

Vergil was at the stern of the boat at the moment, staring out at the blue yonder. He was becoming more and more troubled lately.

Ever since his awakening, to be precise.

Ever since that horrible moment, he had felt weak inside. It had only been two weeks since it had happened. Two weeks since he was almost sure that every step he took would be his last. He had awoken in the worst position ever, stranded in the middle of a desert and in ragged clothes, scarred within one inch of his life, and desperate.

He had gone in the only direction that would mean either death or safety. With his brother Dante, whom Vergil would have expected two outcomes from: fight to the death, which he was unable for, or immediate acceptance.

He was still unsure as to why Dante had let him stay so wholeheartedly, if not a little cautiously, when he knew that if Vergil had been in his position, he would have fought.

There was something Dante had that he had not, something deep within.

Then, it hit him, like a hunter would it's prey. The inevitable truth.

Something deep within that Dante had that would always give him superior power. The one thing that Vergil strived for.

The more he thought about it, the more believable it became.

After his flashbacks, he had never given the situation much thought, but now it all came together.

He had never been able to defeat Dante, even under the Prince of Darkness' influence. He had always been the lesser of the two.

He knew that he had to get this special thing to get his ultimate goal.

Then, Dante slowly walked over to him and looked out to the horizon with Vergil and leaned over the bars.

"You okay?" he asked concernedly.

Vergil didn't want to speak. Why did Dante act so casual all of the time? Did he not realise the power that ran through him? Dante always acted like an average man, a normal guy with a normal life.

Vergil simply stared outwards, oblivious to the marvellous beauty of the sea.

Dante frowned and put his hand on Vergil's shoulder.

"I'm serious. You're not normally this sullen," he said worriedly.

Vergil turned to face, with a face of deep sorrow and longing.

He brushed Dante's hand off of his shoulder and walked away, to his quarters, leaving a caring Dante to his thoughts.

Dante watched Vergil step away. He had no idea why he was acting like this all of a sudden.

He looked back to the sea, going back on the current situation. He and Vergil had been called into action after the incident with Garm. They received a call no less than a day later, requesting that they join into the war, rather than lead several battles.

The military had received information on how useful the half-demons were in battle. If the humans had faced Garm by themselves, the losses would have been great.

The military had decided that they needed more half-demons to aid in battle, and asked the twins as to the whereabouts of some. After deep thought, Dante had mentioned Vie De Marli, the Island off the west coast of South America.

A large amount of the population were members of the Guardians of Vie De Marli, and were either half demon or more. Their descendants, and maybe some of the older ones were knights who fought with Sparda in his rebellion against evil.

They would make a nice addition to the fight, if they were willing.

Vergil and Dante had had a discussion about this. If Sparda had once visited the island, then there might be records on him there. Both of them were interested in any matter that led to clues of their father. They both looked up to his memory with pride.

Vergil, on his awesome power. Dante, on his warriors heart and good will, and his acts as a saviour.

They were on a boat because of the conditions. They were originally to be met by General Schecker, a German master that had earned his title several times over. They were meant to have met him at the airport and been picked up by a jet supplied by the military. They were going to be riding in class.

Then, on the way over, an ambush had occurred in the air. Apparently, Infestants had taken over some fighter jets and shot them down. The air had become too dangerous for travel, so the water had been taken on.

The twins had met up with General Tailor, a dark-skinned American with a hard face and almost was almost bald. He approved of the choices of the White House and all the other countries. He was a man of force, and believed in fighting for what you wish to achieve.

Naturally, he and Vergil were getting along well.

They were both having an impact on each other. Tailor was teaching Vergil the power of firearms, and Vergil had been teaching the General swordplay.

Tailor did not seem too pleased with using "flimsy sheets of metal" as he called them, but was coming to realise their value in battle.

Vergil was appalled with the guns, as he did not view them as weapons used by a true warrior. The General had told him a lesson; now was not the time to be a warrior. The time of the soldier was at hand.

Vergil still refused to use them in battle, and only agreed to use them if it was either part of the mission, or was necessary for his situation. He also did not wish to die by one, as he wanted to die holding his beloved Yamato.

Dante's thoughts were interrupted by people yelling on the deck below. Dante walked up to the railing that gave him a view of the deck. A navy soldier was pointing at the water with a shaking hand, a look of pure terror plastered to his face.

He was making a scene, exclaiming loudly of a terror in the water.

Several military soldiers restrained him, and were giving a failed attempt to calm him.

Eventually, a navy SEAL member knocked him harshly over the head, knocking him out. This man must have lost his nut.

Dante shook his head as the unconscious man was dragged into a sick bay inside the ship. Some of the weaker minded humans were being practically torn apart inside by the sudden news that demons and "monsters" were real.

He was glad that the nuts were being separated now, and not later on, when they would be a hindrance in battle.

He looked at the large variety of soldiers scattered around the ship. Most were plain military soldiers, and unsuited to water. A large amount were navy members, who were here in control of the ships and tactical use of them. There was also some SEAL members here, much to Dante's delight.

He had always pretended to be one when he and Vergil were tiny kids. Vergil being a samurai, of course. Back in those days, Eva would laugh along at their childish antics, and take action if something went amiss. She was always a caring figure, and was always there for the two.

Dante's eyes watered as the memories flooded back. She died getting Vergil and him out of harms way, while she suffered.

He unconsciously slammed his fist into the railing, bending it severely out of shape.

He should have stayed and fought…he should have been there for her, as she had always been there for him and Vergil…

But, he reasoned as he came to his senses.

That was part of the reason why he was fighting against the demons in the first place. In her honour, and to make sure tragedies like that happen to anyone, ever again. He would not allow it, and would place his life in it, to make sure others lives aren't lost.

He was awoken from these thoughts by yet another yell of dismay from below.

Apparently, a SEAL soldier had gone missing.

As had two military soldiers.

Dante jumped over the ruined railing and landed on the deck. There was definitely something wrong at hand here.

There were some more yelps and more and more people pointed towards the water.

It had gone wild, and made the boat lurch at several occasions.

Dante was thrown to the ground by a particularly violent swing had just occurred. Everyone else on the deck had suffered the same.

Dante held onto another railing at the side of the ship and pulled himself up. He was rewarded by this action, as the ship lurched again, but Dante stayed on his feet.

By now almost everyone from inside had come out to see what was going on, including Vergil and Tailor.

Vergil had his hand hovering above his katana, and Tailor had taken a pistol from out of his sleeve.

Vergil and Dante could sense something, something big. Huge, even.

Dante chanced a glance over the side.

The water was now thrashing wildly, but nothing seemed wrong.

Then, something strange caught his eye.

The water was boiling in a patch nearby, bubbles frothing from it, and evaporation taking place above it.

He squinted his eyes for a better look.

He jumped. He had just caught a glimpse of two red eyes from beneath the boiling water,

_BUMP_!

Dante was thrown to his stomach, as was everyone else. The lurches were becoming worse and more violent.

More screams came from the starboard side of the ship.

Dante wobbled to his feet and stumbled across to the starboard side. He looked out, and found his worst fears realised.

There, in the water, was at least 15 boiling patches.

More screams erupted from the port side of the ship.

Dante let out a strangled roar and stomped over there. He calmed down when he realised what had happened, and his breath caught in his throat.

If only he had listened as to what the shouts were about.

"MAN OVERBOARD!" a military soldier repeated loudly.

Vergil had been cast off deck by the tremendous force of the water.

"VERGIL!" Dante bellowed.

He put his hands forwards and dived in to save his brother. He was aware that he would not be able to fight the current, but he still didn't care. He had to save Vergil.

Vergil's head bobbed underwater for a very long time, then he reappeared. He had apparently gone under to see what the cause of all the chaos was. His face had gone as white, as if he had seen a ghost.

If only he had.

He struggled and flailed desperately forward, signalling for Dante to do so.

"GO BACK!" he demanded "GO BACK, YOU IDIOT!"

But Dante wouldn't listen, he wouldn't return to the ship without Vergil.

Then, he noticed a boiling patch move swiftly towards them. He could clearly see the two red eyes glaring up at him.

Dante swum frantically towards the creature, the current almost sending him into the opposite direction.

Just as the pair of eyes was beneath Vergil, Dante yanked Rebellion off of his back and stabbed at them.

A shriek of unbelievable hideousness cut through the air, and the two eyes went above the surface, picking Vergil up onto it's head and showing all what it was.

Dante's face went pale, and he stopped trying to fight the current.

He ignored the fact that he was slowly drifting away from the beast.

There, in the water before him, was a beast of legend. Of Greek legend, to be precise.

A giant reptilian snake opened it's mouth and shrieked.

The Hydra. The Giant Multi-Headed Serpent of the Sea.

It thrashed it's scaly yellow head about, sending Vergil flying off and into the side of the ship. There was a loud THUMP as Vergil collided with the heavy metal.

He groaned as he slowly slid downwards.

Dante was still staring at the Hydra in disbelief. This could not be right. As far as he knew, most religions were way off the mark. The Hydra was a legend, a legend derived from ancient Greek. It couldn't possibly be real, there was no way.

Of course, these thoughts weren't running through the hydra's head, so it wasted no time in lashing out at Dante.

Dante could only see blackness. The sound of breathing was echoing through the sudden place he was in. He wasn't swallowed yet, he was sure of that.

Then, the entire place shuddered, and Dante was thrown out.

He smashed into a wall on the ship. He slid onto the deck. Groaning, he drowsily opened his eyes. The Hydra seemed to have several marine-coloured blades jammed on it's face. Vergil's handiwork, he could tell.

Before he could take action, he realised that all of the other heads were emerging from the water, showing them all it's full potential.

"Holy…" Dante gasped, unable to finish the sentence.

Vergil was standing by the side of the ship, just where he had hit.

He had impaled several blue-blades into it, forming a platform to stand on. This beast had gotten the best of him so far, now it was his time.

He unsheathed Yamato and whirled it about in a circle, grabbing the Hydra's attention.

"You are not worthy as my enemy," he stated in an attempt to taunt it.

Even though it could not understand these words, the Hydra still took it as a reason to lash out at this insolent maggot.

Vergil let himself to be caught in the jaw of the Hydra, knowing that it would not be able to swallow him like this. It would, as he hoped, try and throw him into the air, then open it's mouth wide, letting him fall down it's throat on the way down.

Sure enough, the powerful muscles around him pulled and contracted at different spots, forcing the jaw to open, and the neck to twist upwards.

He was thrown high into the air by the Hydra. He watched with slight awe at the view. There were no clouds in the sky to block out the conditions, and the sun was setting in the horizon, making the water a brilliant shade of orange, mixed with blue in several occasions.

He twisted his body as he felt the wind press his back. His body now faced the Hydra. He held Yamato at the ready, knowing that a single error in his next move would be rewarded with sudden death by the Hydra.

His descent speeded up, gravity making it's move.

He watched the Hydra open it's mouth wide, showing the horrors within. It's teeth were jagged, and the caver of it's mouth was dripping saliva from the top. It's throat looked appalling and uninviting.

_One wrong move, Vergil, and down there's where you'll meet your end._ He thought to himself.

At last, Vergil got in range of the Hydra's reach. It pushed itself upwards to meet it's next meal. It hadn't eaten for over at least ten millennia…and it had around 15 other mouths to feed.

Vergil stabbed Yamato into the roof of the Hydra's mouth, stopping his descent to a halt.

The Hydra shrieked and flailed wildly, but Vergil would not let go.

He swung forward, doing a half somersault which landed him on the other side of the mouth.

The two red eyes glared at him menacingly, showing deepest disgust. It no longer wanted to eat him. This worm's blood will stain the sea tonight, it thought.

Roaring, Vergil shoved pulled Yamato out of the Hydra's mouth and shoved it into it's temple.

Even though the Hydra made a huge amount of noise, Vergil knew that he had not done enough damage to kill it. This was obviously not the one with the brain. Not that he would spare it because of that, though.

He leaped onto the creatures neck, holding Yamato out once more, though making sure not to go too deep. He didn't want it to stick this time.

He slid down the Hydra's neck, his katana slicing through it as he went, leaving a line of red appear down it.

The Hydra flailed for it's life, trying in vain to get the seemingly human being off.

Vergil couldn't help a whoop as he sped down the back of the Hydra. The only thing that the flailing was doing was making it more like a roller coaster ride for him. He felt like Dante, always getting fun out of his enemies. He let out another whoop as he noticed what appeared to be a loop-de-loop coming up.

This caught Dante's attention. He turned to see the source of the noise, and let loose a grin when he did. It was about time Vergil loosened up, and stopped acting so stiff most of the time. And, he was finally learning about style, Dante thought as he watched Vergil slowly cleave the Hydra in half from the back.

At last, Vergil reached the water. He sheathed Yamato, and turned to face the damage he had caused.

The Hydra head let loose one last shriek before the back of it's neck halved, showing everyone what the inside of it's throat looked like.

All of the other heads suddenly turned to face him at the same time. They had noticed the death of their brother.

Vergil noticed one of the safety rings floating beside him. His eyes followed the rope, and then to Dante.

"NO TIME FOR A SWIM, VERGE!" Dante called out merrily.

Vergil smirked and accepted the ring.

He was pulled up by Dante, then he looked at the looks of awe surrounding them. These men had never seen anything like it before. They had all formed a circle around them.

"This feels like a movie, for some reason!" laughed one of them.

There was a chuckle of approval from some of the others. It all seemed unreal to them.

SMASH!

All glad thoughts left the men, and they were soon replaced with horror. This would be a long and gruelling battle.

"ALRIGHT, MEN!" Tailor roared "DO ALL YOU CAN TO STAY ALIVE, AND ALL YOU CAN TO KILL THESE SON OF A BITCHES!"

He turned towards the twins.

"I'm home!" he grinned.

Even though anybody else would have been disgusted by this statement, taking into account the present situation, but the twins understood him, and smiled back.

They were men of action. Skilled ones at that. This was merely a challenge.

Most of the fight they had fought were novices, intermediate, or beginners. They only ever lasted a few seconds, and one would be ashamed to die by them, no matter what the numbers were. Here, they could die fighting, and proud.

Tailor turned his attention to Vergil.

"Remember what I said about weapons for certain situations?" he asked.

Vergil's face went glum and he nodded.

"Well," Tailor continued "this is one of those times!"

He cheerily handed Vergil a weapon.

"Take care of her, she's special," he remarked in his usual deep tone, then saluted and left.

Vergil didn't salute back, for he was still eyeing the gun with distaste. He only grimaced when Dante whistled and yanked it off him for inspection.

"She's special, alright!" he stated happily.

He checked the ammunition it carried.

"Heavy machine gun…" he muttered, a glint could be seen in his eye "…hmm…he's added a scope here…he's added a grip to the side for your wrist, so it'll absorb the recoil…"

Vergil cleared his throat loudly.

Dante jumped.

"Sorry," he muttered, and only gave it back to Vergil after he received an angry middle finger.

Even after Dante's enthusiasm, he still wasn't too excited over the prospect of holding a firearm. Nonetheless, he went up to the platform above the deck and leaned against the railing, placing the scope in front of his eyes.

He had no idea what Dante meant by "heavy machine gun" or "wrist absorbing recoil" or such like, but still tried it out.

He got a Hydra's eye right in the middle of the crosshair, then fired. He was rewarded with a shriek of anguish from the creature.

He realised in a second what Dante meant. Not only was there a grip below the trigger, but one below the barrel. When the shot went off, that hand would take the shake that would normally have ruined his aiming on the target. It didn't matter that it felt strange, his other hand remained prone and frozen, as did the gun.

Dante had felt left out until he found something else to satisfy him. There was what looked like an antique harpoon along the deck.

He got a length of rope to extend the rope that was already on it. With his knowledge of weapons, he found an antique crossbow beside it. He pulled a small knife from his belt, which was previously hidden. He made slight modifications so that he could fit the harpoon onto it, though tied the rope to his foot.

He focused as much of his energy into the weapon as he thought was possible, then searched for a target.

He chose a Hydra that was currently occupied with a group of military men lobbing grenades at it.

TCHUURK!

A strange noise cut the air as a flash of red air appeared from the end of the crossbow, which was mixed with the sound of whirring as the harpoon cut into the Hydra's neck. Dante felt what was once his own power pull at his leg, then whooped as he zoomed through the air. He was _definitely _keeping this.

His feet met the Hydra's neck, thumping the breath out of it. Dante looked around. He was standing horizontally on the Hydra, like a mountain climber on a steep cliff face. The only support he had was the harpoon which was settled neatly in the scales below the head of the creature.

When the Hydra regained it's breath it snarled and tossed it's neck about.

Dante was thrown into the air, and pointed the crossbow at the Hydra as he sped. As soon as he focused his power into it, the crossbow shattered. Dante's eyes widened in horror.

He should have known better. It was an antique, after all. He shouldn't have used it as a weapon in the first place.

He watched the Hydra open it's mouth below him. His heart skipped a beat.

Then, just when he was in the air above it, he noticed a grenade be thrown into it's mouth and down it's throat. The military were doing their jobs after all.

BANG!

The Hydra's mouth lolled, it's eyes whitened and it fell over into water, making a huge splash of water. Dante landed on it's already rotting head.

"Alright there, bud?" the man who had thrown the grenade enquired.

"Thanks," Dante rasped hoarsely in response.

Apparently, all of the heads were connected at the bottom. This made sense, as it was only one creature with many heads.

The water level rose for a few seconds, as all of the other heads slammed against the waters surface like stones.

All but one. No-one had realised the difference about this one. It was bigger than the others, and it's scales were a deep shade of lime rather than yellow. This was obviously the one with the brain.

It was also the one with the most superior strength, and it wouldn't go without a fight.

Even though it wasn't dead, it still had received an immense amount of damage from the explosion from inside.

It roared, blowing all of the saliva in it's mouth outwards. The roar was one of nightmares, it was extremely loud, and it froze the heart of any human who heard it. Dante and Vergil were no exclusion.

There was a small pause. Everyone was taking their time in summoning the courage to fight.

Being a man of honour and valour, Tailor made his move first. Picking up a portable rocket launcher, he fired it in the general direction of the Hydra. It was heat seeking, it should hit, shouldn't it?

If only the Hydra actually was warm-blooded. It got it's strength and heat from it's power source which it had once received from the ancient demons of old. It was one of the last ones left, all of the other ancient beasts had died. They had a habit of dematerialising very fast, leaving only their main skeletons behind.

These skeletons remained intact, as they were once impenetrable. Even though age has caught up with them, a lot of them still survive.

The humans managed to dig up their bones, and assumed immediately that they were lizards. Had they received the entire skeleton, they would have been scared out of their wits. The original body was much, much bigger and had many more body functions that humans nowadays wouldn't even know about.

The humans had made up an intricate philosophy that these "lizards" once ruled the earth, and even built up a story on how they must have died.

Even though the ancient demons are long gone, they gave more than enough power to the Hydra to last it for an eternity.

The Hydra merely moved it's head as the missile blasted harmlessly into the air behind it.

Dante and Vergil exchanged glances. This required everything they could give.

Throwing his weapon to Tailor, Vergil pulled Yamato out of it's hilt. Dante gripped Rebellion tightly. Letting loose their power, they transformed and leaped into the air.

Dante pulled his wings out, gliding to the godforsaken monster.

He fired Rebellion straight at it, hoping to pierce it's scales. No such luck. He pulled it back towards him, letting Vergil make a move.

Vergil let some blue-blades surround him, then he fired them at the Hydra's eyes in an attempt to blind it.

Even though he didn't blind it, he caused a fair amount of damage.

The Hydra let out another shriek, almost deafening the two twins.

Dante felt himself be blown backwards due to the awesome force of it. Once again he felt the side of the ship slam against his back. He saw Vergil meet the same fate near him.

He slowly closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. When he opened them he noticed the Hydra speeding towards him, it's temple thrusting forwards.

_**BAAAAAANNNNNGGGGGG!!**_

The entire ship got knocked back by the tremendous power behind the tackle. The ship bobbed dangerously from side to side, water pouring in from the side. When it regained stability, it was a little lower in the water.

There was a leak in the boat.

Dante stared into the red eyes that glared deep into his soul. Despite it's colour, the eyes radiated coldness, with cat like pupils in the centre.

The Hydra hissed with pleasure, as if it were a cat purring at a cornered rat that it had chased.

Dante saw death looking at him. He knew that this was the end of the battle.

He knew that Vergil was far from help as well. Maybe he was unconscious, drifting in the water somewhere. Soon he would most likely be lost at sea.

The Hydra bared it's fangs at Dante, showing off their deadliness. It edged closer and closer to him all the time.

Dante gulped. This really was the end of the battle. The humans would have to fight this war by themselves.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!" came a sudden roar out of the blue.

The sound of loud gunfire joined it.

The Hydra started vibrating in the air before Dante. He could see bullet after bullet shoot into it at high velocity.

Dante turned his head slightly.

Still roaring, Tailor was firing what looked like an Anti-Aircraft Turret at the Hydra. He must have found it near the back or something, for Dante doubted that he had ever seen it before around the place.

The Hydra seemed to vibrate for about ten seconds more before it's eyes slowly whited out.

It fell to the water with a mighty splash, making a tremor in the water.

Dante felt himself be forced away yet again, but this time he knew that it wouldn't happen again. He was safe.

He accepted a ring that had been thrown to him and got pulled up.

He could see Vergil being yanked up and held up by several others. A stretcher was given to him, and he was lain on it.

The last thing he saw before he collapsed was a large quantity of fighter helicopters zooming towards them.

Then, all went black.

* * *

Darkness.

He felt numb. He tried lifting his arm, but a wave of pain spread up it. His eyes still seemed to be working, he still had feeling in them. But, just about every other part of his body felt aflame with pain. Especially his limbs and throat.

He slowly opened his eyes.

A female medic was there before him. She turned to him, and there was a sigh of relief from nearby.

"Don't try and get up, you need to relax," she said soothingly.

Though outwardly a request, Dante could tell it was more of an order. He let go of any control he had on his arms.

He slowly turned his head to the source of the sigh.

Vergil and Tailor were sitting on a chair almost exactly beside him. Dante wondered why he hadn't noticed them before.

"You're a lucky one," she said, smiling "A lesser man would have died twice over in your case, sir!"

Dante coughed up salt water. Vergil tensed and immediately stood up.

Tailor smiled and signalled for him to sit down.

Dante's throat felt much better now.

"Where are we?" he hoarsely queried.

"A Helicopter, due to an island off the coast of South America," Tailor answered.

Dante struggled to get up a bit higher. Vergil propped up the pillows to make this more possible.

He was in a helicopter all right. A private one, apparently. The only other ones in it were the pilot, the medic, Tailor and Vergil.

Dante already felt a bit better. His demonic healing was kicking in. He raised himself a bit higher.

"About the-" he started.

"Leave us," Vergil announced to the Medic, cutting in.

"But-" she whined.

"Leave us," he repeated, only more forced this time.

She was about to argue when she caught the look in Vergil's eyes. With a huff, she got up and stormed into the cockpit with the pilot. The only other room in the helicopter.

There was a pause for a while.

"Please continue," Vergil asked pleasantly.

Dante cleared his throat.

"What happened?" he asked.

Vergil nodded to Tailor, showing that he should answer.

"One of our radiomen gave out an SOS when we received information on a large leak in the side of the ship," He answered "He must have given details, because quite a large quantity of helicopters came."

Dante took a while to take this in. After a while of deep thought, he asked another question.

"I thought that the air was too dangerous for travel."

Tailor took this one as well.

"These helicopters are equipped with state-of-the-art Vulcan barrel machine guns," Tailor said, a hint of pleasure in his voice "They're also equipped with missile launchers, and every one had a radio direct to HQ if back-up is needed."

Dante nodded, trying to exercise the muscles at the back of his neck. They only stung a little bit.

There was another bit of silence.

This time Tailor had a question.

"What was that son of a bitch back there?" he asked with distaste "I've never even heard of anything like it!"

Vergil closed his eyes and shook his head.

"You probably heard of it somewhere. Remember in Greek legend? The Hydra?"

Dante cut in.

"About that," he asked "I thought that most religions were way off the mark! How come this thing was real?"

"Well," Vergil replied "All legend is based on reality, however loosely. Without some proof of existence, the legend would not have been made anyway,"

Tailor chortled.

"I suppose now you're gonna tell me that Santa Claus is real!" he said with mirth.

Vergil laughed with him, though an answer came with it.

"Yes, actually!" he chuckled.

Tailor gawped at him with disbelief.

"You're kiddin' me!" he stated.

Vergil shook his head, a smirk plastered to his face.

"Think. What's an anagram of "Santa"?" he answered a question with another question.

There was another pause as Dante and Tailor mulled it over.

Dante jumped in his bed.

"_Satan_?" he announced in disbelief.

He and Tailor both stared at Vergil, in some reassurance that Saint Nick was not an evil entity.

"Mhm," Vergil hummed in response "Years and years ago, Satan decided that he needed to lure more people into his path of afterlife."

"Hell." Tailor butted in.

"Yes," Vergil agreed "and he devised a cunning plan. He knew exactly how to bring out the evil in people, the greed and lust in people. He decided to do this on the most holy of days in Christianity, or even on the anniversary on evil's fall itself."

"Christmas." Dante poked in.

Vergil nodded and continued.

"He planned to make humans so corrupt on this day, so focused on their earnings rather than the meaning of the day, that they would forget the true meaning completely, or so they think, of the day. He would disguise himself and give everyone presents."

"What's wrong with that?" Tailor enquired.

"What's wrong with it," Vergil replied "Is that it makes people corrupt. They get their presents one year after another, until they _expect _him to give them something. They would get so wound up by this, that they would _demand_ gifts from him. Then, he would stop. The humans would, in turn, be crushed by this. They still wanted gifts annually, so they kept it up. It even reached the point where parents dressed up as Santa themselves, to amuse their already corrupt children. Then, their children would carry on that tradition of corruption, making it so that people would be more likely to go to hell for eternity, unless someone stops it all."

There was a silence. The three men burst into hysterics of laughter.

They knew that it was serious, and that more and more poor souls were going to hell whenever they died, but it was too funny for them. They had grown up with the belief that a role model from the north pole gave away presents every year, and not once did they assume him to be pure evil.

Tailor stopped slamming his fist into the bedpost and Dante stopped rolling around on the bed.

Vergil wiped a tear of mirth from his eye.

Dante's eyes widened. Vergil had done what he had thought would be impossible for him to do. He had shed tears. He was showing his feelings. Dante had noticed Vergil's change over the past while. More and more he was showing emotion, no matter how rare the occasion. Maybe he had finally given up on evil…

A part of him believed that. The other remembered the Vergil that had resurrected Teme-Ni-Gru, and how he had been adamant to bring hell to the human one. How blindly he had succumbed to evil and it's ways.

But Dante just laughed along with them, determined not to let Vergil know about his suspicions.

On Vergil's side of the story, however, was a completely different take on things. A more blind take, if you will.

He didn't notice the changes in himself, and if he did, he would most likely not care. He was already starting to feel again, to feel human emotions again.

Little did he notice, he was becoming closer to the one thing that made Dante superior in battle. He almost had the thing inside, that was unexplainable not five hours ago. He was becoming stronger, stronger in a way he had never been before.

* * *

_Joe: __Tailor, my first OC, is by no means my last. This story wouldn't have what it takes to be epic without them. "Epic" is what I'm aiming for here, I've been planning this fic for ages now. It's the one fic that I've been planning since I joined FF._

_This chapter was mainly action, as were all the other ones so far. Don't expect them all to be like that. Sure, the fic is **mainly** action, it's not the only genre here. I've added "General" to it only recently, and I mean to keep by it. There'll be romance, humour, angst, suspense, and everything else that could possibly be put in this._

_Tell me what you think of Tailor. He's going to be in this for quite a bit, so I want to know what you think of him. There'll be plenty more, as I said._

_And by the way, I'd like to thank anyone who's given support to me for this. _

_No, really, pat yourself on the back. Any support at all, and you have my most sincere gratitude._

_So, take everything that I've said into account, and don't forget it. ANYTHING that you think should be said, tell me. Even if you're about to report an abuse on me, tell me what's wrong, and I'll fix it._

_That's about it for now. Until the next time,_

_Ciao._


	6. The Addition to the Fight: Vie de Marli

_Disclaimer: Anything that's copyrighted in this story is not owned by me._

_Joe: Back again. _

_You may have noticed something about this story that's different from others. In any other story, it's basically Dante and Vergil setting off to face an army by themselves._

_Completely the opposite of this._

_The humans in this are not going to be acting like headless chickens, as that would make it a bit…well…lame. As you may have noticed, Tailor killed the Hydra, not one of the twins. And it was a soldier that lobbed a grenade down the Hydra's throat and made just about all of them die._

_Anyway, I'm not going to ramble on for long. Let's get started._

* * *

There were several guards outside of a huge mansion, long blades held at their side. They were told to watch over the place and make sure that only the invited ones were to come inside.

Their uniform was black, and they had bullet-proof armour on their torsos. They wore a spiked helmet, all of the spikes were black as well, to match the uniform. Their faces could not be seen, as when the helmet reached the forehead, it turned into a mask. The mask was also black, and had slits for the nostrils. There were no holes in it for the eyes, but there was a long chain of them where the mouth would have been. At the back of the helmet, there was a sheet of chain-mail running from the end of it.

Their weapons were staffs for the most part, except for the blades at each end. The blades on each side were a deep shade of red, and the edges glinted, even though the sun was behind the clouds at the moment.

On their arms and legs there were braces and gauntlets, with vanguards on their calves.

All of which were black with spikes protruding from them.

On their right arm, the uniform came to an end and revealed the guards flesh. On their upper bicep was a tattoo. The tattoo was that of a circle with marks running along the side. This represented the wheel of destiny and it's unending cycle. In the middle of the wheel was a picture of a burning blade, the symbol of the order of which their master was a high ranking member of. It meant that the order would burn eternally through time, never ceasing in it's unholy activities.

Above the bullet-proof armour was a black chest plate, old fashioned with even more spikes coming out of them. They were almost like knights.

A bird chirped and landed on a shrub nearby one of them.

Quick as a flash, it spun it's staff rapidly at the unfortunate sparrow.

A second later, the guard brushed the feathers and blood off of it's staff and resumed it's position.

Anybody watching would have noticed that when it spun the staff, it never had to change the position of the weapon on it's hand. There was something wrong with the connection between the hand and the arm. It just spun a continuous circle.

That was because these guards weren't human.

They were a new kind of soldier that was being tested by their masters for this kind of job.

After about another half-hour of silence, the gates seemed to open of their own accord and a swishing noise could be heard, but nothing could be seen.

The sound of heavy footsteps was heard by the guards special ears.

A figure seemed to materialise in front of them.

It was the same breed of soldier as they were, complete with an identical tattoo as they had. The only difference was that it had a scroll instead of a staff.

It was a messenger.

It held out the message for one of the guards to accept.

When it was received, the messenger seemed to dematerialise. It was only a stealth function. When it needed to, the creatures could activate a chameleon like camouflage. The only difference was that this could change to any colour, and could copy it's exact background.

Heavy footsteps were heard again as the creature marched off, and the gate closed itself when it was gone.

The guard that had received the scroll turned towards the door, and shoved one side of it's blade in.

Instead of making a cut, the blade went through the mahogany door, and made a ripple in it, as if it were made of water.

There was a sound of unbolting from the other side, and the door opened. The guard marched in.

This was the only way that it could enter, as there was a curse on the door. Even middle-class demons such as itself could not enter normally. That was one of the functions of the blade. It allowed it to enter doors that it's master cursed.

The Guard marched into a room that appeared to be a meeting room. There was a large wooden table in the centre with many chairs surrounding it. In the side of the room was a large fireplace, which was crackling with fire at the moment.

The Guard marched up to one of the only two other occupants of the room and handed him the note.

The person accepted it and read through it.

"Perfect…Crìnge, look at this…" the man said slowly, speaking in his trademark way of taking pauses after every sentence.

Crìnge took it. His eyes darted from left to right and back again for a while.

"Excellent, it seems that most of us are still alive and willing to fight," he stated. Unlike his friend, his voice was deep and spoken at a whisper, yet had confidence in it.

The note itself had about a paragraph or two at the top, which was written by Crìnge. Below that were several signatures.

This was the letter that had been written to gather around the remaining members of the order.

Apparently, a lot of them were alive, and had agreed to come to the meeting. This message had been sent around to all of the members for them to sign. It looked good.

None of them took long to get where they wanted, as a lot of them were capable of teleporting. Others could fly, and some others were, as Crìnge himself was, unable to do any of these. They normally took to doing whatever else they pleased, but remained punctual.

They should all be here soon…

* * *

"Right, we're here. What the hell next?" Tailor announced loudly as he, Dante and Vergil walked down a street way leading from the landing spot.

They had landed on a designated "H" mark for the helicopter to land on, as were orders. As soon as it landed, the helicopter would take flight again and return to base, as there was only the one H mark, and countless other helicopters waiting for the release of their passengers.

The three men had received the privilege of landing first, and had therefore gotten the chance to go exploring first.

"No Idea" Dante stated as he walked along the busy street, the occasional bar catching his eye.

Tailor had a surprised expression on his face.

"None? It seemed like the two of you had a perfect idea of what to do, you must have some idea!"

Dante laughed at this, for he had never thought himself as "organised".

"I rarely do. It's better to just go with the flow," he answered.

Tailor grumbled something nonsensically as they continued. He hadn't gotten sleep in ages, and was prone to getting moody in such a case. He wasn't half demon like the twins, and needed sleep more than they did.

Vergil remained silent as he tried to think out his schedule. He knew their mission here, and what they needed to do. They needed to rally the Guardians of Vie De Marli together for the war, as they would be crucial for their defence.

However, he had no idea as to how he would go about doing that.

He couldn't put up flyers, that would be too obvious, and would direct some unwanted attention to them.

The phonebook wouldn't be much help either, as it would be impossible to separate the average citizen from the warrior.

He was shaken from these thoughts when Dante let out a cry.

"Found it!!"

Tailor and Vergil exchanged bemused expressions. Dante was staring right at a pub titled "Vie De Barley", a pub apparently made by people who made their own drinks, from the growing of the barley and such, to the condensation of the water from the alcohol.

"Dante, this is no time for-" Vergil started, but it was too late. Dante had already entered.

With a heavy sigh, Vergil rolled his eyes to heaven. Tailor laughed at this, then entered after Dante.

Vergil looked around cautiously, then shrugged his shoulders and followed the pair.

He sat down at a table that Tailor had picked. Dante was already at the bar ordering.

"What's he ordering? He never asked us what we wanted," Vergil said as he relaxed on the chair.

"Said he's giving us a 'surprise'" Tailor grunted in response.

Vergil's face went green. The last time Dante had given him a 'surprise' was when they were infants. Dante had mixed honey, ketchup, flour and water together and told Vergil to close his eyes and swallow.

Vergil had spent the next while throwing up.

Ever since, Vergil had been extremely cautious when it came to surprises.

Dante arrived holding three foaming pint glasses of a golden-coloured mixture.

"Down that, and you'll be doing well," he nodded towards the mysterious brew "best stuff you'll find. Discovered it on my last visit."

Vergil gave the bottle a suspicious glance, but gave in, and gulped it all down without stopping.

Tailor gave it a sniff, then, when content about it being safe, took a mouthful. He grinned with appreciation, then took another mouthful.

The two turned their attention to Vergil. His already green face had gone a shade of emerald.

"How much did you swallow?" Dante chuckled.

"I'm going to take a walk…" Vergil blurted as he rose and headed for the door.

Dante and Tailor took little notice, and returned to their drinks.

* * *

Vergil wheezed as he breathed in the fresh air. How did those two _animals_ manage to stomach that vile gunk?

His breathing soon returned to normal.

He looked around. He wasn't going back in there, he had better things to do around here. From the looks of it, this place was popular as a holiday getaway for the people from the nearby mainland. There must be something interesting around here.

He appreciated the views as he strolled around. This place really was beautiful, he thought. The sun was stronger here than in New York, and the place reminded him of Spain for some unknown reason. It was just really warm here.

Then, a library caught his attention.

That would do nicely.

He walked up, and noticed the architectural design of the place. It was unlike any he had seen so far. It was ancient, he could tell, but did not fit into any of the categories he knew.

Gargoyles were popular, as were arch-tops without any bottom. The roofs were laced with semi-circles, and the windows took a Gothic approach in style. The ones in this library had stained glass pictures of local martyrs and saints, most of which were unknown to Vergil.

He opened the double-doors and stepped inside. It was more or less the same design inside. Almost everything was done in semi-circles and arches, with gargoyles glaring at you from almost every angle.

He walked past the clearly labelled Fiction section, the Non-Fiction, the Romance, the Young Adult, the Adult, and the Horror.

He stopped when he reached a door, with windows at the side. It wasn't the back exit, as the other end of it was inside. He looked up. The sign read:

_Forbidden. Only Permitted May Enter._

He raised an eyebrow. This may provide some entertainment. He tried opening the door, but found a metal object attached to the door, beside the knob. It had a slit going through it, obviously for him to run a card through.

Sighing, he turned away and he asked the Librarian for a permit by the entrance.

The small, old and frail woman looked up with bespectacled eyes. She was somewhere in here 60's, Vergil judged. Her glasses seemed to magnify her eyes to an insane degree. Her hair was snow-white, and her face was riddled with wrinkles.

The poor woman almost jumped out of her skin when she realised who had just asked her a question.

"Aren't you that young man on TV?" she asked, her voice sounding very soft and reedy.

Vergil nodded. He had no time for matters such as these.

He waited for what seemed like ages for the old lady to register this information. He tapped his foot with decreasing patience for the woman to slowly bend down, and root around for a permit.

He didn't bother thanking her when she gave him one. She blinked up at him with interest as he walked away. Vergil gave an involuntary shudder. He really dislike old women. They creeped him out.

Finally, he opened the door.

Inside were many wooden filing cabinets, each of them labelled with the topic of their contents.

He strolled around, his eyes racing. He had never seen so many books that he wanted to read.

He looked through the many labels, ranging from _Temple of Arcana_ to _Legend of Oriosis_. Vergil had no idea what Oriosis was, but he bet that it would be a fascinating topic.

He looked past those two when he froze on the spot. He had just found something that he wanted for all his life to read.

On top of a filing cabinet labelled _Saria's Origin_ (once again, he had no idea over what it was about) was one labelled _Sparda_.

* * *

Dante dumped an empty glass on the table. His sixth one so far. Due to him being part-demon, it took a much larger amount of alcohol to make him drunk.

He smirked at Tailor's look of awe as he let loose a mighty belch.

Tailor himself had only drank two more bottles from his first. Dante stood up and paid the waitress their tab.

The two casually walked out of the bar, and looked around. The sun was setting, and a lot of the soldiers were exploring around. None of them had been here before, and it seemed to be a great place to stay.

Dante had to admit. It was. The last time he was here, he was unable to appreciate it. Not only was the demon world over-running it, but he himself had caught a killer dose of flu.

His voice didn't sound like his own, and his movements became more sluggish. Hell, he couldn't even pull off a half decent stinger.

A cry of dismay broke his track of thought.

He frowned, and walked over to the source of the noise. Tailor followed suit.

A group of soldiers with worried expressions were informing some others of an instant that had occurred. Apparently, a soldier had gone missing.

Dante pushed his way into the middle of the crowd. He caught a bit of the conversation.

"…after half an hour, we started to get worried, and started looking for him. We came across some old mansion, you know, some famous guy or other used to live there-"

"Used to?" Another soldier enquired.

"Yeah," one explained "Committed suicide, I heard."

"Anyway," the first on continued "We came across some mansion, when we heard a scream. His scream."

There was a small silence. Tailor cut through it.

"Where is this mansion?" he queried.

The soldier nodded Westwards.

"'Bout an hours walk thataway,"

"Right," Dante announced. He had heard enough "Inform as many others as possible. We'll meet here in 20 minutes, and you'd all better be equipped."

He couldn't help a grin as all of the soldiers scrambled to do their business.

* * *

Pontius grimaced (though his face didn't show it) as he sat down at the large table with all of the other surviving members of the order. He had just started to enjoy the quiet life.

There was some excited chatter erupting from all sides of the room. Most of these people had not seen each other in countless years.

Crìnge cleared his throat loudly.

The chatter died down.

"Standing here today, I am glad to see many familiar faces," he started "and even though this is a time of festivities and rejoicing, we must get to business."

The silence became definite. The fire even seemed to stop crackling. Crìnge's face went from content to ambitious.

"Most of us will remember the grand plan devised by the order many millennia ago-" he tried to continue, but then Pontius stood up and cut in.

"Always the modest one, Crìnge, you devised that plan!" he exclaimed loudly for everyone to hear.

Several members of the order smiled. It wouldn't be a meeting without Pontius interrupting Crìnge at some point or other. It always brought a smile to their faces to watch Crìnge give him an unyielding glare, until Pontius remained silent again.

Which happened now. Crìnge simply glared at Pontius, amid several chuckles, until Pontius apologised and sat back down.

"Anyway," Crìnge went on "we all remember that particular plan. The plan to overrule to humans once again."

He paused for affect. He waited for the cheers of approval to die down.

"Now, my friends, is the best time to act. As many of you may have sensed, one of our order has fallen, yet again."

There were some murmurs in the room. None of them approved of Mundus' hastiness. He should have waited for the rest of the order before he acted out.

"Also, we are missing our scapegoat, the human Arius," Crìnge said "But, do not lose faith, he was only necessary for the event of failure. If we act wisely, that event shall not occur at all. We can move on without the two. We just need to use strategy and tactics, and the humans will meet their downfall."

He stopped. A frown broke across his face. He had just sensed something.

"I do not wish to alarm you," he said, his voice taking the unlikely pattern of 'unsure' "Some of you may know this problem already since your arrival…but, it appears that the sons of Sparda have arrived on the island."

Silence.

"This may be a problem…" one pointed out.

There was some murmurs of agreement.

"Do not be discouraged, my friends," Crìnge said encouragingly "There are only two of them. And, if my assumption is correct, the two are not at peace with each other, if they have not made ends meet since the last I heard of them."

There was some chuckles and some nods.

"Well," a pale one stated for all to hear "What are we waiting for? How will we start?"

"Good question, Vlad," Pontius said "I'd like to know that myself."

They all turned to Crìnge, in hope for some enlightenment. Vlad, being a man of legend himself, did not take to disappointment, and had little patience. He normally consumed the blood of the person who annoyed him by means of biting their neck. Of course, demonic blood wasn't necessarily good for him, but he often managed to overlook that fact.

Crìnge turned to a globe on his left.

"I do not know myself what to do first, but I will leave it to fate," he said as a black dagger materialised in his hand out of thin air.

There was a sudden flash from the slit above his eye, adding a slight tinge of red to the room, making his silver hair seem scarlet for about a second.

The globe started to spin seemingly on it's own accord. The entire room watched in silence, their eyes fixed to the small replica of the Earth.

While it was still spinning at a moderate speed, Crìnge stabbed the dagger into it. He smiled and looked up to face the rest of the room.

"We head for Egypt."

* * *

Vergil stood, astounded by his own finding. Carefully, he opened the cabinet and pulled out the inner shelf.

There was countless documents that were barely managing to squeeze inside the filing cabinet.

He closed his eyes and reached out for one, not really caring which one he chose in particular. His semi-gloved hands clasped around one.

Gently picking it up, he opened his eyes and blew the dust off of the cover. The title read: _"The Visit by the Dark Knight Sparda"_ and was apparently written by a historian who went by the name of Vistura.

He opened up the book to face the middle. The style of writing was similar to the bible. Every paragraph was titled and had it's own verses. Vergil strolled over to the moth-eaten seats and sat down. He read aloud a paragraph, wanting to remember this moment for as long as he lived.

_2: The Arriving of Sparda_:-

_It was night when the night guards let out a cry. There was a fleet of long ships sailing into the harbour. We had received prophecies of this, and were not completely caught off guard._

_2. When they docked, the boards were set up so that they could walk off of the boat. I am sure that everyone there felt a foreboding feeling when the people exited the ship. 3. A man walked out, a man wearing armour as black as the midnight sky. His helmet seemed to meld with his skin. It was as if his skin was this armour, and not otherwise. 4. Above his eyes was what seemed to be a precious red diamond. What I assumed to be decorative wings were folded downwards on either side of his shoulders._

_With a nod, he signalled for the rest of the crew to leave the ship. Out of the many ships came scores and scores of warriors, all of them armed to the teeth._

_5. As the prophecies foretold, he came in peace, but with tidings of war, and the burden of weariness hung on his shoulders. Though, what really stood out about this knight was the weapon that he had attached to his back. 6. A weapon of extraordinary size and beauty it was, and I was surprised that one could manage to carry such a sword of such enormous girth. It's handle was designed in a twisting shape, and there was an engraving of a star between the two stoppers. But, the real beauty of the weapon lay in it's blade. 7. Most of the blade was crimson, and seemed to be organic, a living entity. In the centre of this strange substance was a red jewel, or so I thought. On a later date, I saw the so called 'jewel' lift up a layer of itself, to show a cat-like eye. It blinked, then went back to being inanimate._

_8. The actual blade ran along the side of the crimson material, and ended at unbelievable sharpness at the end. Another awesome feature of the sword was it's ability to become, well, _less_ of a sword. It could become a scythe if the knight was willing, or extend to more than treble it's original size, like a spear of sorts._

_9. I later found out that the knight named it after himself; Sparda. To name one after oneself shows the remarkable affection he felt for the armament._

_10. The knight came to our island with a purpose: to rally all of our warriors for battle. Only the more abnormal ones he chose, strangely enough. He only picked the ones who had an eerie vibe, or aura, if you will, surrounding them._

_11. For the rest of his stay, the events of which I will not mention yet, he admired the beauty spots, marvelled at the artwork, and lived to the fullest during those very few weeks…_

Vergil stopped reading. He could sense that there was something amiss somewhere out there. The air itself gave him a strange feeling. There was definitely something wrong here. He stood up and strode up to the door of the Forbidden archives. He looked down at the book, his eyes showing lust for the contents of it. He walked over to the still open cabinet and put it in. Then, as he was about to close it, he noticed something. He needed this.

_The Addition to the Fight: Vie de Marli soldiers. Spàirdae._

Vergil's heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat. Being a master of Lìstook, he was aware of what the authors name translated into.

_Sparda._

* * *

_Joe: Wow. An entire chapter without any action. How would I categorise it?…_

_Call it what you want, because I really have no idea as to what it is._

_Anyway, be expecting this to be updated soon._

_Ciao._


	7. Beginning the Battle of the Divine

_Disclaimer:- I don't own DMC, it's characters, or anything else here that someone else does. All I own is a select few OCs, including Tailor, Crìnge and Pontius._

_Joe: What do you know, I actually have nothing so say. Except this, just to acknowledge the fact that I have nothing to say. Kind of contradictory, but there you go._

* * *

Vergil took a quick scan of the room. He wanted to be sure that no-one was watching him. He carefully took out the diary and opened it. The handwriting was difficult to read, but recognisable when enough concentration was exerted. He closed it and walked out with it.

He walked up to the librarian.

"I'd like a lend of this," he stated.

The old lady didn't seem to hear him. She just kept on with whatever she was doing. Vergil stood there waiting.

"Today, please?" he asked coldly.

The old lady blinked once, then tilted her head upwards. She licked her lips, dampening the blistered skin, then spoke.

"Just a second, there deary…my mind aint what it used to be…" she spoke almost at a whisper.

She slowly bent over and searched for a sheet of paper on which he would sign the book out with his signature.

Vergil tapped his foot on the ground with impatience. He only wanted this book, then to get the hell out of here. He scowled as the old lady picked up a sheet of paper, then squinted at it with bespectacled eyes to check whether this was the sheet or not.

"Sign here," she squeaked as she held out a pen.

Vergil snatched it off her, then hurriedly scribbled down his signature. He didn't bother thanking her before his hand met the doorknob of the entrance.

It was still evening, much to his surprise. He wondered whether the other two where still drinking. It was possible, he reasoned as he walked cheerfully down the street way.

He opened the book that he had just obtained. As what was mentioned before, the handwriting was difficult to read, and impossible for most. For, the entire manuscript was written in Lìstook, the ancient language of the demons. Vergil was almost sure that he was one of the few remaining beings in the world to understand it, and was therefore necessary for finding out it's contents.

Vergil read through the title of the first page. It was dated: 16th November A.D.

Even though 'A.D' had not been invented yet, it was the date that Vergil assumed it to be. As he read through the first paragraph, he realised that this was not just a summary of Sparda's visit to the island, but a complete diary of the entire war. The addition of the Guardians of Vie De Marli made so great an impact on the war, Sparda must have decided to name the diary after them.

He skipped over to the last page. It seemed to end when Sparda gave a final visit to the island, and the homecoming of the warriors. He finished his diary and left it behind with the words: "_My Job is finished. Though my true power is locked away, it does not end here. I will settle down in the human world and slay the demons that managed to escape the wrath of the war and of the seal…"_

His cheerfulness turned to anxiety when he noticed Dante and Tailor giving orders to the soldiers. His reading halted at an abrupt stop. He shut the book and he put some swiftness to his step and strode over to the group. Dante turned his head to him, a look of reassurance on his face.

"What's the situation?" Vergil queried.

"We were just about to leave to some mansion over there," Tailor answered, nodding his head in the general direction of the mansion "A soldier went missing there, and was supposedly treated with hostility."

Vergil nodded. He joined the people as they marched westward.

* * *

The mansion came into sight after around an hours march. The perimeters were an awesome sight, made entirely of what looked like marble and were treble the height of either of the twins. The gate though, was made of some black substance.

They came into reach of the gate. Suddenly, a speaker operated to their right.

"_Who is it?…I'm busy now…What do you want?!" _came an angry voice.

Dante held his hand out, signalling silence. He didn't want the man on the other side to know their motives, as he might react with violence.

Dante inspected the large black gate. He ran a hand down it. It was smooth. The two sides of the gate seemed to meld into each other. He slammed his fist against it as hard as he could.

His hand was deflected just as he hit it. His face broke into a frown.

"Cursed by something," he stated as he turned to face the others "We aren't dealing with humans here."

There was some distressed murmurs coming from the crowd. This was not going to be easy. Tailor seemed unaffected by this news.

"So what? There are other ways to get in beside the gate," he said with confidence in his voice.

"How?" Vergil asked.

Tailor walked up to the marble wall surrounding the house. He slammed his fist into it. Nothing happened.

Dante nodded and a plan formed in his mind. He called out an order.

"We need explosives on that wall, now!" he bellowed.

There was some scuffling about as some soldiers did his bidding. Dante grinned, yet again. They were going to blow their way in.

Vergil studied the mansion. He could sense an unbelievably large amount of power radiating from it. Whatever was in there, he knew, would be ready for a fight, and not be expecting defeat. He also knew that there was a large chance of him and the others dieing.

He turned his attention to Dante. Dante seemed to be facing the same worries. His face was stuck in an anxious appearance.

Suddenly, Tailor tapped his shoulder. Vergil nodded to show that he was listening. Tailor tapped again.

"What?!" Vergil rudely remarked, turning to face him.

His face lightened when he saw what Tailor was holding. He suppressed a chuckle.

Tailor was holding the gun that Vergil had fired a bullet of on the ship. Tailors face was, to put it mildly, irritated.

"Remember, Vergil, when I told you to take care of this?" he almost spat.

Vergil could no longer hold a straight face. He nodded while he smirked.

"Tell me why, Vergil, why did you decide to cast this to the ground after _one_ shot?" Tailor continued "Why did you even find it necessary to throw it to the ground in the first place?"

"Well…" Vergil answered "You know that I don't like guns…"

Tailor didn't care. He thrust the firearm into Vergil's arms.

"Betsy's yours now. In a month I will check on her condition. If she has been unused, or damaged, so help me I'll…" he said in an annoyed tone.

Vergil snorted.

"Betsy?"

Tailors face hardened even more.

"She's yours now. Take care of her." he spoke this in a way that allowed him to spit at Vergil every so often.

He saluted and walked off. Vergil only looked at the contraption that lay in his hands.

Dante walked over.

"Letting you keep it, is he?" he said lightly.

Vergil's face was appalled.

"Letting? He's _demanding_!"

Dante snatched Betsy off of Vergil.

"If you don't want it, I'll take it." Dante then turned and walked away.

Vergil grimaced. He stopped Dante in his tracks and yanked Betsy out of his grasp.

"I'll take _her_" he snapped, adding special emphasis to the 'her'.

Then, out of pure stubbornness towards his brother than anything else, Vergil stomped away. He would show them…this gun would get some use.

The demolition team was ready. They went up to a section of the wall and set up a bomb there. The bomb was called C3, one of the most powerful ones used in the military. It was plastic, and could be moulded into any shape. Of course, due to it's blast radius, only a minuscule amount was used.

The crowd stood well back, only close enough to have the mansion and it's wall within sight. The C3 had been set to explode within two minutes. The military waited patiently. Dante yawned and made himself comfortable in the underbrush that some of them were hiding in. Vergil just stared at the wall with unblinking eyes, his eyes fixed to the area that should be blown up. After what seemed like ages, Tailor nudged them.

"Five…" he whispered to the twins.

"Four…"

"Three"

"Two"

"one!"

**BANG!!**

There was a cloud of smoke above where the section of wall once was. Dante stood up for a better view as the smoke began to separate.

Tailor and the twins squinted their eyes to improve their sight. Then, they were disappointed.

The wall was still there.

* * *

The entire room went silent. The sound of an explosion could be heard coming from directly outside.

Pontius walked over to the large window and squinted out. He could see the smoke from above his outer wall.

"It seems…" he said slowly, as usual "…that we have some unwanted company"

This statement was redundant to the other occupants of the room. Quite a lot of them had acute senses, and could tell that there was a large amount of humans outside. And, two entities that seemed weak at first, but had immense power when you looked close enough along with the humans.

The whole order stood up, all of them reading each others minds. Quite literally, in some cases.

"Sit down," Crìnge ordered "Our guards should be enough to deal with them, and if not, we shall simply make more."

His confident voice reassured some of the unsure beings there. They all sat down, knowing that they could trust Crìnge. He was the unofficial leader of the order, whether he was aware of it or not. He had always been the one giving advice and council to others of the order.

Vlad however, wanted in on the action. He remained standing, his pale skin a light shade of red due to the fire beside.

"I do not know about you," he spoke in his distinct Romanian accent "But I vant to deal with these humans myself, and if anybody vants to join me, then they can stand up now!"

Nobody else stood up. Vlad was never the most obedient of the order, and the others were perfectly happy to abide by Crìnge's advice.

Swiftly turning his back in temper, Vlad stormed out of the room.

Crìnge closed his eyes, a look of hurt on his face. Pontius' eyes showed concern.

"What is the matter?" he slowly asked.

Crìnge's eyes remained shut as he responded.

"You do realise," he said "That was probably the last time that we will ever have gotten to see Vlad."

"So," a member of the order asked "You do not believe that he can succeed?"

Crìnge shook his head with sorrow and in reply.

"No. He has committed the same deed that past comrade Mundus did, and he is most likely to meet the same fate."

* * *

Dante lost his temper as he paced up and down beside the wall. The wall was cursed to, he thought. These people are really paranoid, and really irritating.

He stopped and took in several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. He stared into the crimson sunset.

Even though it needed to be done, this was not his primary mission. He had made no headway on the Guardian picture. The only one that he had ever actually met was Matier, the presumed mother of a past client of his. Though Matier was ancient and Dante didn't even know whether she was still alive or not. Probably broken a hip by now, he thought as he sat down.

Lucia didn't count, she was created by some rich guy called Arius. Dante wasted no time in killing him, as was his mission. Dante froze as he inwardly cursed all of the profanities that he was aware of. He had never received his pay from Lucia.

She owed him…

But then again, he had no idea where she lived now. If he did he would have headed straight there in the first place (After a pint or two in 'Vie De Barley') as it was the only way that he could think of to find some Guardian members.

Matier's and Lucia's house had been blown up though, and he hadn't a clue as to where they were now. In fact, he had never found out what exactly had blown up the house in the first place. He had never asked, as "_by the way, why did your house blow up?_" didn't seem like a good conversation starter. Dante had learned a lesson on that subject. Once, when he was young, he had tried to chat up a woman from Japan, and had managed to bring up the subject of the war. At first, she didn't mind _too_ much. Dante had thought that she was enjoying the conversation and pressed on.

He had received a slap to the face within the next five minutes.

Meanwhile, Tailor was showing Vergil the functions that he had customised Betsy to be compatible to use.

It was possible to switch from full auto fire, semi auto, and when needed, three-shot bursts. The semi auto was supposedly handy for sniping, as only one bullet was fired at a time. Three shot burst was for melee situations where you were low on ammunition. It meant that you could fire all you liked, allowing you to fire enough bullets to kill an un-armoured soldier but altered the firing frequency so that you wouldn't empty the round as quickly.

At the moment, Tailor was showing Vergil how to apply the suppressor. Tailor had customised the gun himself to be able to fit it on. Also, on the gun there were several slots. Tailor said that you could put on several cases for camouflage. He had some locked away somewhere else, though. You could put on a leaf-pattern for in the jungle, put on a muddy brown when in the dirt, and sandy colour for desert-ops. Also, he was experimenting with others, such as ones that disguised the gun as a suitcase, but leaving a hole in the side to fire out of.

This gun was customised to perfection.

Tailor beamed with pride as Vergil equipped the suppressor and shot off a butterflies wing without anybody nearby noticing. Vergil smirked, then took out a concealed dagger, then cut into the front of it. Tailor's face went ballistic.

"Wh-what do you think you're doing?!" he hissed as Vergil made a deep slit just under the barrel.

Vergil didn't reply. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he fitted the dagger into the slit he made. It stuck tight, it was a perfect fit.

Vergil lifted Betsy. He had made it so that he could stab people with it, when an enemy got close enough.

Tailor nodded in understanding, though still felt slightly hurt. Vergil had just made a hole in his favourite weapon ever. He would have killed anybody else for doing that.

Then, to everyone's amazement, the gates slowly opened, and the sound of marching was heard. Tailor brought himself to full attention.

"Stand back!" he barked "Stand back and arm yourselves!"

The soldiers stood to attention and went back a distance from the gate, then took out their guns. They formed into positions, then Tailor joined them and stood at the front. Dante and Vergil exchanged anxious glances and joined the group. They both sensed something extremely powerful on the other side, and countless other lesser demons. Lesser compared to the other one, though. Dante didn't recognise the aura of these. They had around the power of a Frost, which was an extremely agile and diligent soldier.

For some reason, they always reminded Dante of Predators, the famous movie aliens that hunted humans for fun.

He focused on the slowly opening gate and left that track of thought. This was no time for that. He could think of movies some other time. Now was the time for action.

Finally, the door was fully open, but nothing could be seen on the other side. Dante and Vergil frowned. They could both sense something extremely powerful there, as well as scores of other medium-to-high strength others.

Then, suddenly, a large group of bats flew out of nowhere. This got some surprised glances from the military. It was only sunset.

Then, the bats flew into a cluster and appeared to become one large mass of bats. Dante gripped Ebony and Ivory tight. He had seen this happen once before, when he had fought the lightning demon known as Nevan. They were obviously dealing with an extremely high ranking demon here.

Then, the bats formed into a human shaped figure, then they suddenly morphed into each other, deleting their bat-like image. A man stood before them now.

His skin was palest white, and his eyes were orange. He was dressed in all black. His tailcoat trailed back for a while.

The figure closed his eyes and raised his hand into the air. Another cluster of bats appeared and formed into a black blade. The blade was curved in several places, making an almost wave-like design. The blade had a twisted handle like Force Edge, but the two stoppers were formed in the shape of bat wings.

He opened his eyes and clicked his free hand.

Dante brought Ebony and Ivory upwards and pointed them at the air in front of the man in impulse. His received a chill down his spine when he saw something strange happen.

From out of mid-air appeared leagues of soldiers unlike any of the twins had ever seen. They wore black spiked armour and had an uncovered arm with a tattoo on it. Their blade was peculiar as well, which was almost like a staff. Their mask was merely a black face guard with holes here and there for them to breath through. There were no holes for the eyes. (_Full summary of these on previous chapter_)

Dante gulped. He had watched the _Predator_ movies way too many times.

He glanced around him. The other soldiers were all unnerved like he was. Vergil simply had a frown on his face. Tailors words sounded in his mind, and he unequipped the suppressor and the detachable scope and put full-auto on Betsy.

Vergil knew who this man in black was. He was something of a legend, actually. He went by the name of Vlad, more commonly known as Vlad the Impaler. Even more commonly known as Dracula the vampire.

Vlad's mouth twisted upwards into a grin, and he clicked his fingers again.

In perfect unison, the dark soldiers raised their blades and saluted the military. Then, in just as perfect unison, as if they had all rehearsed this, they charged.

Tailor nervously turned back to his soldiers. The dark soldiers outnumbered them by scores. If only the US had sacrificed more soldiers for the mission…

"Right," he said with a faltering voice "let's show these bastards what we got. Don't give any mercy or quarter, as I don't think you'll get any. No prisoners, no holding back."

The dark soldiers were at the gate by now, and only a small distance from the military, the navy and the US SEALS.

Tailor was sweating madly. He had never felt so nervous before battle, not even during his first one.

Vergil checked his clip, as Tailor had instructed. He was full. Gulping, he raised Betsy to aim at the incoming enemy.

Dante whirled his dual handguns on his fingers, then pointed them at the approaching evil.

With a final roar, Tailor took up his shotgun and ran towards the enemy, most his men following suit, others falling back to take out some with their rifles or to hurl a grenade.

Thus started what would later be remembered as The Battle of the Divine.

* * *

_Joe: That was pretty short compared to the others, I know. And, the last chapter pointed to all-out action for the next while. I can't help it. After all, this **is** a war fic._

_Don't worry, this won't be a one-battle war. There'll be plenty more, so don't expect me to cram everything into the Battle of the Divine. It'll just be the first major battle scene._

_Even if you thought that the second chapter was major, think again. 'Major' battles in this fic will stretch out to at least two long chapters at a time._

_If you're wondering why I chose "The Battle of the Divine" for the name of it, it's because the military are facing the forces of evil for the first real time. You could call this exorcism in a funny way, I suppose. Not really, but still._

_Oh, and for those who are wondering, Crìnge is pronounced "Cree-nge."_

_Anyway, Ciao._


	8. The Guardians

_Disclaimer:- Anything that's copyrighted in this story is not owned by me._

_Joe: Though it didn't seem so, I was already writing this when ch. 6 was up. I had just finished 7, but decided to wait. I didn't want to make this come up to fast. And, it gave time for more reviews. I'm a mercenary little bastard, I know. _

_This and maybe more chapters after this are going to be written on the Battle of the Divine, so expect a lot of action._

_Oh, and some people were wondering why the Hydra attack wasn't considered 'major'. It was really more of an ambush, if you think about it. Anyway, it only stretched out to one chapter, so there's your main reason._

_Anyway, that's just about everything of minor importance, so here we go._

* * *

Dante bellowed as he fired Ebony and Ivory like a madman. It had been a long time since he had seen so many enemies in one place. On top of that, there was that vampire-type guy in the midst of it all.

Shaking himself from such pessimistic thoughts, Dante focused on the battle. He had never seen this kind of enemy before. Maybe they had just been created for the war.

Maybe, he thought hopefully, they hadn't been tested on battle. Maybe they were unused to killing.

He seriously doubted that with every fibre of his body. What didn't help was the sight of a man being carved into mincemeat by a spinning staff-blade. He needed to find out what these were called. At least a nickname, for reference purposes.

Warriors of sin?

Nah. Not right. He frowned as the mask of a dark soldier deflected a bullet of his. This guy needed some persuasion, he thought as he charged some power into his handguns. Ebony and Ivory shone a brilliant shade of red as he powered up them.

A bang and a flash of red light later, the dark soldier fell to the ground, dead. A steaming bullet was stuck somewhere inside it's skull.

Dante grinned, content with his work. He turned to see how the others were handling the onslaught of demons.

Tailor seemed to be having a hard time, though he was still unscathed. Having a shotgun in close range like this had it's advantages. The only problem was the length of time it took to reload it.

Vergil was going along fine with his weapon. Though he had an uncomfortable look on his face, Dante could tell he was secretly enjoying it. Vergil never let go of the trigger, and dead enemies started to form a pile around him. Dante had showed him the black art of infinite ammunition, so all Vergil had to do was point and the enemy would die.

Dante felt a blade tear through the skin on his shoulder. He fell to the ground, but he managed to swiftly roll to the side and shoot upwards. The enemy squeaked and held the area between it's legs, then fell to the ground. Groaning, Dante rose and took out Rebellion, then brought it straight down. There was a sickening squelch as Dante killed the demon.

Dante gasped as his shoulder throbbed in pain. He didn't expect that, he thought that it should have healed by now. He inspected his shoulder. Steam was rising from it, and a putrid stench lifted from it. Those blades must be cursed.

It would take at least half an hour for it to go away. He cursed as he parried a slice from an incoming demon. He deflected another attack that came instantly afterwards, but only barely. These guys were well trained.

He jumped back as the demon jumped and whirled it's body in midair while spinning the staff at the same time, making a corkscrew attack. Dante tried to jam rebellion in the demons skull, which was unprotected during the attack. The demon instantly blocked, then countered while in the air. Dante rolled to avoid the blade, then fired Ivory at the demon's hand, the one which was unprotected on the tattooed arm.

The enemy shrieked as it dropped it's staff, then was decapitated soon afterwards. Dante rolled as he kicked the body over. His damned shoulder was distracting him from battle.

He sensed danger, then immediately dodged. A green laser tore through the space where his head once was. He turned his attention backwards. A demon was holding what appeared to be a pitch black pistol of sorts which it had equipped and had attached it to it's arm.

Before it could attack again, Dante brought his leg out in a sweeping motion, tripping the enemy up. While it was still falling, he slashed downwards and cleaved the enemy in half.

He took the weapon off of the dead demon's hand. It was similar to the Nightmare-Beta, he could tell. The same kind, as well. As soon as he touched it, it clasped onto his hand.

As it was pistol form and therefore was smaller. If this was a pistol, the Nightmare-Beta would have been the shotgun of it's kind. Across the side Dante saw the words: _Nightmare-Alpha_.

Just great. As well as having cursed staffs, these guys had a premium quality firearm. Still, now it was his.

He turned and fired at an enemy a fair distance away. He smirked with appreciation as the laser burnt through the chain mail at the back of the enemies head and killed it. It had good range, and was light.

He turned and fired three shots in a row. It was almost like an automatic, it could fire again pretty fast. Tailor would have a blast with this.

At the moment, though, Tailor was panting as he ducked a swipe from an enemy. These bastards were tough. He roared as he fired the shotgun at it, blowing it away. Pulling back the pump on the weapon, he fired at it again for good measure. Just to be sure.

He looked around. His men weren't doing too bad, he thought. He was facing heavy losses here, but by the looks of it, so were the opposition. He noticed the vampire guy just standing there in the background, just watching. Stupid asshole. He was bound to die sooner or later like that.

Taking advantage of the situation, Tailor charged up to the man and fired a blast from his shotgun.

He gasped as the shotgun bullets stopped in midair just before the demon. The demon in question had his eyes closed at the moment, a smirk was spreading across his bleach-coloured face. The bullets fell to the ground, then the man opened his eyes and faced Tailor. Tailor stood still, an arrogant look spread across his face. He knew that there was a large chance of him dieing here. He might as well die in honour.

"Come on and get me, ya stupid Michael Jackson wannabe!" Tailor taunted loudly.

Vlad did not know who Michael Jackson was, and was not stung by the insult. He did however, raise his hand to freeze Tailor in his tracks.

Tailor was suspended in midair, unable to move. All he could do was watch as Vlad came nearer, his blade held out.

There was a _pang_ as Vlad knocked Tailor across the head with the flat of his curved blade. Tailor was knocked out instantly.

Vlad clicked, summoning two more demons.

"I vant this one alive. He shall vork vell as a hostage, if he dies, you shall join him, comprende?" he announced.

The two demons nodded and stepped to it. They carried Tailors unconscious body out of harms way.

Dante the and Vergil were unaware of Tailor's absence, as they were up to their waists in enemies.

Vergil looked around worriedly. The had all been fighting for a while, so that meant that either of the sides were losing. He soon came to realise that the human losses were greater than the demon's. They could either all fall back or perish.

Choosing retreat, Vergil yelled out as he stabbed a demon in the stomach with the blade at the end of Betsy,

"GET OUT OF HERE!" he bellowed "FALL BACK! RETREAT!"

His and Dante's eyes met. They both nodded, then turned tail and fled from the mansion. Running as fast as they could, they escaped from the battleground, the others following.

Dante noticed that there was actually more humans left than he thought there would be. He had just done 'the Vergil' he supposed. He had underestimated their strength.

Vlad noticed the sudden movement of the human soldiers. _What are they doing? Do they not know that escape is futile_? He thought. Throwing his blade into the air, he captured the attention of the nearby demons, as the spinning blade reflected the blisteringly hot sun. All of the nearby dark soldiers turned to face him.

He remained silent as he counted the numbers. Over the past hour or so, he had lost around 150 demons. Not bad. After a while, he spoke only a few words:

"Do not let them escape."

With one mighty roar, the dark soldiers pounded after the humans in pursuit.

* * *

Dante began to pant as he and Vergil remained in the lead. He looked backwards. The others were far worse off, being human while he and Vergil only being half so. They were struggling to keep up. Damn it, if only they had a few jeeps or helicopters with them…

Vergil nudged him as he sped forward.

"Where to?" he enquired.

Dante almost tripped. He had completely forgotten. They actually needed a place to run _to_. He couldn't think of any place that seemed suitable, as he wasn't an expert on the area. _Come on, Dante…use what you know_…

Then, it hit him. It was good enough, and would be a good strategic position.

There was a large tower on the island nearby. It was just off the edge of town, about half an hours march from their current position. But then again, they were going faster than a march. A sprint was about three or so times faster, so about ten minutes?

"There's a tower nearby, that's where we'll go," Dante stated to Vergil "Just follow me."

Vergil nodded and hung back to follow Dante's movements.

Vergil didn't know whether the soldiers could hold on much longer. Even though the military were the elites of human fitness, even they would soon be exhausted.

The tower had better be near.

* * *

Inside the tower in question, a ceremony was currently taking place.

In the chapel room, there were countless hooded figures bowing before a large shrine. The shrine was actually something of an altar, with several artefacts placed upon it. All of which were either made of solid gold or silver, with an engraving of some sort upon it.

Behind the altar was a person that was obviously the clergy member hosting the ceremony. His robe was pitch black, and he wore a long golden medallion across his neck. His many ringed fingers were risen into the air as he chanted loudly to the other occupants of the room.

After he finished his verse, the others replied with another chant of sorts.

After another while of this, the ceremony ceased to an end. The many figures rose from their bow and started conversing about the current events while on their way out.

A young man in his teens took off his hood, much to the distaste of the elders, then walked out to join some friends and family that had left the room of the tower. He caught up with them after a few paces out of the door.

His elder sibling (somewhere in his late twenties) tutted when he saw him.

"You weren't meant to take off the hood until you left the tower, bro," he laughed.

The boy had an expression that suggested discomfort.

"Stow it, Père, you know that I don't give a crap about this stuff," he replied "_Must_ we do this every month?"

Père nodded.

"It's tradition. You know how it goes. We have to thank the 'ancients'-" (he rose two fingers and curved them in emphasis) "-for our powers. Apparently, being a guardian gives some sort of responsibility."

The teen wrinkled his nose.

"Then, why do **I** have to do it? I'm not accepted yet, so why do I have to go through these stupid rituals?" he asked hotly and impatiently.

"Because-" said their father as he suddenly walked over from his eavesdropping and slapped him lightly across the back of the head.

"it's still tradition, you've to keep it up unless you plan on not using your powers when you grow older."

The youth huffed as they came within sight of the exit corridor. He loathed doing this stupid sermon every month. Not only did it waste away half of a precious day, but it managed to make it seem like longer. It was extremely boring for the young boy. The boy himself had short brown hair with slowly changing blue eyes. It was normal for his kind for the colour of their eyes change at the very most twice. Once after the early stages of childhood, where it would just about always be blue. Secondly (or first, if the eyes remained blue) ranging from 18 to 20, when the eye colour would become either white, yellow or, in rare cases, lilac. This stated the kind of demon they could become as a Guardian. White suggested that their demon form would be like an animal of some form, yellow stated humanoid with some alteration, and lilac was special. It was unique, and the ones who had it showed no common feature, they would all be different. Though, those were only the ones that almost everyone had. There were wild reports of foreign half-demons having different eye colours. The sons of Sparda, for example, were known to change eye colour when they devil triggered. One, becoming a gothic blue, the other scarlet. The boy's eyes were at the moment somewhere between blue and purple, so there was great potential for him. His brother, Père though, was using eyes of off-white. He had just become a member recently, and wasn't yet a completely grown half-demon. His eyes weren't fully changed.

His father patted him on the back.

"Don't worry. Soon, these sermons will grow on you. You won't give as much care as you do now," he said reassuringly.

Suddenly, a loud bell rang. Everybody halted in their tracks, knowing that the bell was an alarm. There was trouble nearby, and now that they focused on it, they could all sense it.

The father of the two boys had a worried look on his face. He turned to his two sons.

"Père, take care of Joel, I have to go with the others" he whispered urgently as he prepared to depart back into the large room.

Père nodded, but Joel clasped onto his fathers arm.

"No! I can fight!" he said.

But his father would not have it. He almost looked scared for his son, even.

"Don't!" he responded "I can't risk it. Stay with Père!"

Joel remained stubborn, and a glint could be seen in his eye. There hadn't been an alarm like this in years, he had heard.

"I'll return, I promise," his father said, trying to calm him.

And with that, the man tore off to join his brethren, supposedly in battle. Joel stared at the ground were his father had stood just a second ago. He felt a tug on his robe.

"Come on!" Père hissed "You know the rules! We have to go to the catacombs!"

Joel's eyes narrowed. He had only been in there once, and that was only for educational purposes. It had been to show him what to do for an emergency. He had hated that place from the first moment he had stepped in it. It smelled rank, and it was almost impossible to see in, even with the torches illuminating most of the place.

The place itself was a long channel of interlocking tunnels where the dead Guardians were buried. When one travelled all the way through the long place, you would end up in the temple of Arcana, an ancient temple where the Arcana artefacts themselves originated from. The same place where Dante first fought Bolverk. It was a long walk to there, about a day or two.

Joel allowed himself to be pulled away by his elder brother Père.

_In the meeting room-_

Andrè, the father of Père and Joel, stood in a line along with the other members of the 'Guardians of Marli'. They all had their hoods pulled down, and were standing stock still, waiting for the announcement. The druid stood before them all, his eyes closed. This place was almost new to them all. It had only recently been rid of the demons that had infested it. The exterminator was the being known as Lucia. She had gained entrée to the Guardians of Marli the hard way, by proving herself worthy. Sure, they had used the tower before the demons came, but that was long ago, longer than some of the eldest Guardians lifetimes.

Finally, when the druid seemed ready, he opened his eyes.

"Our sentries have sensed something coming. Something that could change our lives for the next long while. They sensed a large gathering of the greater evil demons. And, with that, they noticed an immense number of lesser, but still powerful, evil demons."

There was a silence, all of the warriors gathering in the meaning of these words.

"As well as that, they sensed a large group of human soldiers, who were in battle with these evil demons. Among the humans they sensed an aura that they had already sensed not two years ago, along with a similar, yet unfamiliar one."

More silence. Andrè suppressed an impatient outburst. Get to the point! Who was the familiar one?

"The one that they sensed," the druid said, as if reading Andrè's mind "Was none other than the Legendary Dark Knight Dante, returned to Vie De Marli to help us during another time of need, so it seems."

There was some grins among the crowd. Good. Some assistance. They weren't tackling these demons by themselves.

"But-" the druid continued "The humans were outnumbered by too many, and soon needed to flee from the evil ones. They fled in the direction of this tower, with them bringing the pursuing demons."

There was some slight muttering. The druid had just ruined the Knight Dante's 'can solve anything' appearance.

"As Guardians of Vie De Marli, we are destined to aid the Sparda bloodline and any who fight with it, so if we are requested to, fight we must."

Andrè gulped. There we go. The point. They were expected to battle along with the son of Sparda.

The druid said no more. He didn't need to. The Guardians knew what they had to do next. Prepare.

The group of half-demons turned and walked over to a room on the other side of the tower. That was where they left their traditional armour. Their weapons were already with them, though. They never went anywhere without them.

Andrè pulled off his robe, as did everybody around him. The robe was simply worn over their casual clothes.

They finally arrived in the storeroom, where they all had their individual stone cabinets, or lockers. Andrè inserted his code into the lock, then opened it. He had to add some extra force to it, as it had not been opened in years and years. In fact, it had not been opened since his training.

He equipped his armour; the traditional navy blue steel armour with a large crest on the chest. There was no helmet for the armour. The Guardians of Marli did not believe in more armour than was completely necessary. They were almost like the old Celts, though the Celts didn't wear any armour and only used less-than-standard weapons, and threw stones rather than shoot with bows and arrows and crossbows.

One of the strictest regulations of the Guardianship was that no firearms were to be used. Long range weapons like throwing daggers, spears, javelins, crossbows and bows and arrows were to be used.

Andrè smiled as he gripped his mace. It wasn't the customary ball-and-chain, but rather, a long handle with the 'ball' at the end. It was perfect for him, and when he held it, he was in complete comfort and felt safe and secure with it. It was as if he was born for this weapon.

His yellow eyes glinted as he gave it a swing. He loved this weapon.

Andrè was unlike his youngest son, Joel; his hair was a dirty blonde. His other son, Père, was growing up to be the splitting image of him though. Andrè was well built, perfect for close range fighting. He was medium weight, so he wasn't too light nor was he too heavy. He was quick on his feet, as he trained every day. He took his Guardianship very seriously, and was stern about it's traditions and customs.

He looked around him, looking about the sea of navy surrounding him. It's been a while since he had seen all of these people in their armour. During those days, their main worries were 'who's going out with who?' and 'damn…need money for a car…' and suchlike. They had all been young adults, and were only in training at the moment.

Another alarm rang through the silence, causing everyone's head to turn immediately towards the direction of the front door. Someone was outside the tower entrance.

* * *

Dante gasped for his breath when he had stopped in the shade beside the tower. He had been running at a fair pace for the past God-knows-how-long and was seriously exhausted. Perspiration was flowing freely down his forehead due to the amount of ground he had covered.

Vergil was already beside him, taking deep breaths also. Dante looked behind him once he trusted his bones to be able to lift a weight again.

One by one the others arrived, panting and red-faced. Dante couldn't blame them. If he was human and in their position, he would be in a somewhat similar position. After all, they had been pulled out of a large battle and placed into a desperate flee for survival. Dante was actually impressed.

Leaning on Rebellion, Dante took in the numbers. They were down quite a lot, and it appeared that no more were coming. He frowned when he noticed a large difference. He nudged Vergil, who was rubbing Betsy against his coat.

"Where's Tailor?" he asked.

Vergil halted his cleansing actions and took a quick scan of the area in which they were resting. Dante heard him take a sharp intake of oxygen. Tailor would have been at the front of the crowd with them. At the very least, he would have been here by now.

"I don't recall seeing him since the battle," Vergil stated worriedly.

"Do you think that he's still there?" Dante asked.

Vergil closed his eyes and shook his head.

"No. He's not an idiot, he would've known better than to do that," he replied.

Before the two could delve deeper into the mystery of Tailor's disappearance, the immense wooden double doors slowly opened without anybody within sight opening it. When it had fully folded outwards, they could see a large party inside waiting for them. At the head of the party was a large old bearded figure in a long robe, which suggested that he was either a priest or druid.

Behind him was an incredible amount of warriors equipped with navy-blue armour and a random assortment of weapons. They wore no helms or helmets, and had no firearms of any form. The only long-range weapons that they had were either crossbows, spears or javelins, bows and arrows and/or throwing daggers.

The party moved forwards to meet the military that were caught off-guard, and were gasping on the ground out of file. They must have looked like right imbeciles, Dante thought grimly as he holstered Rebellion and stood up straight to face them.

Even though he felt slightly embarrassed, he couldn't help a smirk as some military soldiers scrambled into line. Too late, he thought, the impression had already been made.

Dante could sense a strong aura radiating from the crowd. It wasn't quite human, but not quite demon either. It wasn't evil, either. Upon sensing this, Dante and Vergil stood smartly to attention in perfect unison.

The druid spread open his arms as the two parties met.

"Son of Sparda," he exclaimed loudly "You return to us in need, as if you wanted us to repay a long-owed favour, do you not? For, we have sensed trouble brewing of late…."

His voice was deep and expressionless; and therefore boring. Dante felt like he was back at History class in school. His attention span dropped slightly, and the voice of the druid simply flew from one ear to the next without leaving any trace in his mind. In his peripheral vision he could see Vergil still standing to full attention, his eyes apparently wide open, his head nodding after every few sentences. He had always had an ability to stand longer in the influence of boredom. In fact, Dante was unsure whether he was even bored at all!

But he continued to stare at the crowd in front of him as the druids voice droned on. How that man still managed to find enough words to last that long was beyond Dante. All the man had to do was state that they were either welcome or not into the tower, but _nooo_! He thought childishly. He knew that, if Vergil could read his mind, he would have been shaking his head right there.

Dante noticed a warrior with darkish-blonde hair roll his eyes up to heaven. Dante smiled. This druid guy must apparently make a habit out of this. These warriors must have to put up with this quiet a lot.

"…and so, son of Sparda, we are indebted to you, and we will assuredly aid you for this war that plagues you, finished the druid.

There was a silence, the druid apparently expecting for a reply.

Dante stood there for a while, wondering why the man was staring at him. It was only when Vergil impatiently elbowed him in the side did he answer.

"Right…yeah, anyway…" he started feebly, but then his confidence grew, as he started to get a bearing for what the hell he was supposed to be saying "I thank you for the hospitality, and…erm, welcome to the fight!" he said.

The druid raised an eyebrow.

"The fight? So, are you talking about more than a battle here?" he asked.

Dante pointed at Vergil.

"Let my brother explain, he will be able to tell you more about it than I will," he said.

There was some murmurs of interest. Most were not aware that there was more than one son of Sparda.

The druid smiled before launching himself into some incredibly boring speech, even though it was only one line:

"Not out here, how foolish we must all look! Inside, where you can rest your weary bones and drink while telling us about the situation!" he said, his arms spread wide once more.

There was a slight groan erupting from the crowd of Guardians. They had just prepared themselves and put their armour on, and now they were going back in. And, they knew that if the druid got his way, he would squeeze another sermon into it.

The military, however, were pleased at the prospect of rest and drinks, and possibly food. Exchanging looks of delight, they soldiers entered the tower, soon to be followed by disgruntled warriors. Seemingly, to them, this would be a long day…

* * *

The soldiers of darkness had slowed down to a march. The humans had made a daring escape, but had succeeded. A horseless carriage illuminated only by the midnight moon was going slowly down the path after them. Inside, Vlad was inspecting his prisoner.

Tailor was now tied up, but since he was asleep, it was all unnecessary. Vlad ran a long-nailed finger down Tailor's face. Even in his sleep, Tailor shuddered.

"What use shall I make of you?" Vlad asked the unconscious figure before him.

Even though he didn't expect a reply, he still slapped him across the face, but not hard enough to wake him.

Tailor seemed sturdy. He would make a fine hostage indeed…

Vlad turned to the window. The troops were going along at too slow a pace for his liking. He clicked, and the window opened seemingly on it's own accord. He stuck his head out.

"On the double!" he demanded loudly, for all of the dark soldiers to hear "I vant to be there by dawn!"

There was a great roar from the soldiers, then their pace quickened. Whatever the master said.

Satisfied with his work, Vlad made the window close. He sat back down on the comfortable seating, and a small alcoholic drink materialised into his hands from thin air. Slightly smiling to himself, he took a sip and rested back.

A small groan caught his attention. He looked at his captive.

Tailor opened his eyes to find himself tied to a seat. He struggled to writhe his way out of the binding black ropes, but was incapable of it.

"Do not vaste your energy, my weak friend," Vlad stated.

Tailor let loose a gasp when he found his bearings and his awareness for his surroundings.

"You-!" Tailor started, but could not finish his sentence. Vlad never wanted to hear what exactly he was.

"You shall learn to keep a civil tongue vhen I'm around," Vlad snapped.

Tailor was still writhing, but not for escape. An unbearable pain was spreading itself across his body and he was screaming loudly. The soldiers outside ignored the loud noise erupting from inside; it had nothing to do with them. Vlad smiled sadistically. He stopped the flow of power into Tailor's body.

Sweating, Tailor stopped screaming and jerking. There was a small trickle of saliva dripping from his mouth. He didn't bother sucking it in, his thoughts were on a completely different matter.

They were completely devoted to thoughts of death and of torture. To Tailor, life for the next few hours would seem like a miracle.

In fact, he wasn't sure if he would survive the next few minutes.

* * *

_BOOM!_

"_Aaaaargh!" screamed Tailor as he was flung across the carriage by an immense force._

_He was dead._

_Joe: Gotcha! No, Tailor's not dead. I just wish that I could've seen your faces when you read that part. It would've been priceless, I'm sure._

_Sorry, I couldn't let that opportunity pass._

_Anyway, be expecting an update soon. The same probably goes for readers of my other in-progress fic, Financial Diaries of a Devil Hunter. I might come up with an idea for that soon enough. Don't fret, if I don't though. I will eventually._

_Anyway, that's pretty much all I can think of._

_Ciao._


	9. Siege at the Tower

_Disclaimer:- I don't own Devil May Cry or any of it's characters. I'm not making any money out of this (If only I was…) so don't sue. All I own are the OCs in this fic, including Crìnge, Pontius, Joel, Père, Andrè. Also, I don't own Dracula either, even though he isn't referred to that name in this._

_Joe: Whew, those Disclaimers are starting to get long. They're **really** starting to bug me, too._

_Anyway, **huge** thanks for the reviews. Now, the review count has gone above 50! That's never happened to me before! (though, it should have! 'Financial Diaries of a Devil Hunter' reached 49 and stopped going up. Just **ONE** away! Burn!)_

_I'm ecstatic over that. Also, you most likely noticed my separating the fic into books and parts. It makes it sound a lot longer and makes it sound like it has a lot more depth. Try it yourself, you get a good feeling off of it._

_I just found out (Thanks Gromit, I wouldn't have realised it myself) that my description of Vlad wasn't right; it had a typo. It said something like 'his skin was palest white, his eyes were red and his skin was pitch black'. That made no sense. His skin was white, and his hair was black. Just to sort that out._

_And another thing for Gromit: he's writing a story in the Aliens/Predator category (Movies) called **Predator: War**. Do him a favour and read it and review it, his second chapter is almost finished. I've only seen the start of it, but I already prefer it to the first._

_Oh, and another thing. So far, I'm not completely happy with this story. The plot is strong at some points, but fairly nonexistent at others. I keep getting more and more ideas to add to it, so don't worry if you're starting to think that it's starting to get nothing more than mindless violence. I predict stronger plot ahead with fight scenes, and a 90 chance of a twist!_

_Anyway, here we go._

* * *

Dante's mouth practically trailed across the ground as he was escorted through the tower. This place was huge, with loads of architectural detail to decorate it. He could tell, that if you were new here and didn't have a map, you could easily get lost.

He failed to suppress a sound of awe when the druid led them into a large room with a fireplace and giant windows. A large table covered the centre of the room. On it were several candle holders and crystal glasses. At the back of the room were some comfy looking couches and chintz chairs with pouffes to rest your feet on.

Vergil let loose a similar sound to Dante when he entered, as did all of the military when it was their time to enter.

The room was high-ceilinged, and at the ceiling itself was a large design of angels flying around the centre. At the side of the room was a large glass and wood double-door leading out to a balcony.

The large fireplace crackled as Dante took a seat on one of the comfier looking ones at the back. He gave an audible sigh as he lifted his feet up to rest upon a nearby pouffe. He badly needed this, as battle wasn't the most relaxing choice of action.

Vergil remained standing, as he was in the presence of strangers, and he did not trust any of them yet. He would not be caught off guard if something went amiss.

The room was large enough for most of the military to receive a seat, so everyone took advantage of the hospitality. They were offered drinks, which they all (excluding Vergil) accepted gratuitously.

"So…" the druid stated "…you have grave tidings, do you not? You said that we are not dealing with a mere battle?"

Vergil nodded as he walked over to the fireplace. He had refused the wine offered, but had requested for water; a healthier option.

"I do not know if you have noticed this or not, but the frequency of appearing demons has increased largely of late," he said.

The druid and several Guardians nodded. This was not news to them. Many of them had spent the past while defending their families and households against the recent increase of evil demons. Vergil continued:

"This is not without reason. The demons have become more organised, and they are employing tactics. They are even using some of the more powerful demons as recruits,"

He was of course, speaking of Garm and the Hydra. Dante gave a nod of understanding as he gave out a hiccup, then asked for a refill of his wine.

"S'true," Datted added. He was on the verge of becoming tipsy; a bottle of wine had been left beside him, as he kept requesting for refills. The wine maker had decided to give him a bottle of his own. It would be easier that way.

"And," Dante pressed on "I think I sensed some others inside that mansion. Strong ones. Definitely demonic nobility.

There was a silence as everyone took in this grave news. If this was fact, then they were all in trouble, and in peril. Vergil cleared his throat after a moment of worried silence, then continued.

"In fact, the main reason that we all came here in the first place was to invite all of you to help us. We, the humans-" Dante was not sure if he was the only one who noticed it, but Vergil added a note of disdain when he said 'we, the humans'. Perhaps, though Vergil had improved, he still regarded humanity as an impurity.

"-cannot do this alone, so _we_-" Vergil continued.

Dante was sure that others noticed it this time. He had added a little too much emphasis on the word 'we'.

"-badly need your assistance. We hope that you will all accept, and join us in battle, or rather; in war." Vergil finished, somewhat to great affect. The sudden use of the word 'war' had aroused some Guardians and the druid's attention.

There was another silence.

"…I see…" the druid said quietly.

Murmurs were now spreading across the room between the Guardians. The only other noise in the room was the occasional hiccup erupting from Dante, who now sat beside an empty bottle looking extremely satisfied with himself.

The druid started a hushed, yet heated conversation with an old-man that may have been an elder. After quite a while of arguing, the two came to a conclusion. Well, maybe not a conclusion, but an agreement.

"Well…_this_ is quite a shocking tale," the druid said "And, the Guardian clan needs some more time to decide whether to fight or not."

As Vergil's mouth opened to protest, the druid continued.

"You must take into account the scale of what you have just told us. If we decide to fight, then our position of 'neutral' will be robbed from us. We will be officially be labelled as enemies to the evil ones, therefore putting us in danger," he explained.

Vergil closed his mouth firmly and nodded. Then, the elder smiled to him.

"Do not fret, you will not be robbed of our hospitality for the duration of your stay! As we decide, you may stay in the tower, as we have already received a great favour from one of you!" he said loudly. Dante got the distinct impression that this man was rather pompous.

He ordered for the twins and the military to be shown their room.

Dante and Vergil followed a guide in front of them. Vergil could not help but notice the many winding corridors protruding from almost every corridor. He figured that this place was like a maze, and one would need lots of experience to just be able to navigate from one side to the other.

After what seemed like ages, they reached their rooms. They were delighted to find that they both had their separate rooms, unlike the soldiers, who all had to rest in large ward-like rooms with bunk beds inside. But, their rooms were spacious and high-ceilinged, similar to all of the other rooms. They both featured a window to marvel at the amazing view, and each had a writing table. The bed itself seemed to be king-sized and was ready-made for them. Between the two rooms was a curious door that was normally locked. The strange thing about it was that it was locked both sides, so that you could only pass through it if the other person was willing as well.

The guide did a low bow before departing, leaving the two to inspect their rooms.

Vergil's eyes only reached the writing table when he remembered something: the manuscript, he had totally forgotten. Reaching inside his coat, he pulled out Sparda's autobiography.

Dante only took a single approving glance at the bed before glancing out of the window. There was a breathtaking view, as the sun was only rising over the island. An orange tinge was seen sweeping over the land, and the sea could be seen from there. The range of the view was impressive, too. You could see all the way to the village, and (Dante gulped) the mansion from which the gates were still open. What appeared to be reinforcements were pouring out. His eyes scanned down the path on which they were taking.

His scan ended just before the tower. His heart skipped a beat. There, on the threshold of the tower was an immense grouping of demons, in the middle of which was a horseless carriage.

Suddenly, the alarm bell sounded.

* * *

Vlad cursed as he stood outside his carriage. The alarm bell could be plainly heard from down on the ground. The humans in there knew that he was there.

Come to think of it, there was stronger forms than humans in there, he could sense. Maybe this would be more difficult than he had thought. He blinked once and focused harder on his target. No! These thoughts would be his bane. He would not return to Crìnge and the others without vanquishing the enemy. He couldn't bare the thought of Crìnge's penetrating stare while asking him why he hadn't disposed of the Sparda twins and the humans. He also knew that Pontius wouldn't help but give him an 'I told you so' smug grin. No, he wouldn't turn tail and flee. He had a duty to do, and these mutinous thoughts weren't helping him make progress,

He clicked his fingers, grabbing the attention of a nearby soldier.

"Set a squad to circumnavigate the tower. I vant to know all of it's exits and entrances, and any weakness that it may possess," he demanded. With a nod, the soldier set about to do it's task.

He gave the tower another stare. Soon, he thought, he would see it crumble before him.

* * *

Vergil ignored the alarm bell as he sat down and opened up on the first page of the manuscript. It read:

'_I know that I labelled this book 'The Addition to the Fight: Vie De Marli soldiers', but in truth, this is much, much more than an account of the war. It is the first book that I have ever written, and I am unsure whether it will be the last one._

_If you are a being that understands the language of which I am currently writing in, then you will have undoubtedly heard of the legend that surrounds me._

_Here, I have written my (and therefore most accurate) account._

_Firstly, you must know of the Underworld. It derived it's name from the fact that it is, though it's inhabitants may beg to differ, an embarrassment of a world. One would find himself supremely skilled to scrape a living in it, as resources and supplements are scarce. Hence it's title of being 'under' the other world; the human world. It's true identity, however, is Ùndùnwoald. In the common tongue (Human speech) it is pronounced 'Oon-dune-vold' from where a rough translation is: World of Animalism. 'Animalism' refers to the way only the mightiest and fittest survive, and the way the entire place is devoted to it's ways. It is, as humans would say, a 'dog eat dog' world, where even that resembles some truth. The humour in the truth being, that the canines that inhabit the world are prone to hunting each other._

_Back on track, what you must know about the Underworld is that it's more intelligent habitants (Most intelligent, one could call them, as their brainpower exceeds a humans) are completely devoted to gaining control of the upper realm, as it would give them all an easier life. Truth is, the already scarce means of survival are becoming quick to extinction. The ground that was once fertile is now mere dirt, unfit for any crop of any sort. Fallow does not seem to help it, as it just seems to get steadily worse and worse._

_The intelligent ones are obsessed with the upper realm, and are planning to seize it by force. They are, (as all of the habitants of the Underworld are) extremely violent, and very much capable of slaying anything in their path. Some of these beings (which like to be referred to as 'demons' or 'devils') were even created for that purpose alone. They were planning on enslaving the humans and taking the world for themselves. I was almost a leader of their order, with my twin brother, yet I was starting to become unsure of their means of action. Not many scrolls you might find will tell you that I had a brother, but, yes, I did. Our family has a tradition along the bloodline that twins will always be born. He and I were very close. His name was-'_

The door slammed open with a **BANG**, and Dante barged in, his expression that of anger mixed with fear.

"Are you deaf?!" he barked "the alarm went! The demons are outside!"

Livid from his interruption from the book, Vergil slammed it shut and stormed out behind Dante, shoving the book into his coat pocket. His mood hadn't changed all the way up to the meeting place with their guide. He remained silent, knowing that he was acting childish, but still. He had been interrupted at a crucial moment in the book, about to discover a fact about his father that neither he nor Dante knew about.

The meeting place was in the room where they had just been in previously, though the feeling of warmth and comfort was missing from the room, only to be replaced by feelings of anxiety and fear amongst the military and Guardians. The druid stood before them, his face grim.

"Son of Sparda," he said, a stony tone was set to his voice "Long ago, our clan has fought with your father in battle, war even. Now, our minds have been made for us, Maybe fate planned it that way……"

He took a break to ponder these thoughts, then continued:

"As I said, long ago we have fought in allegiance with Sparda, now we shall do the same again, with his sons."

Dante and Vergil smiled in unison. Brilliant. Mission accomplished. But only one thing now remained…

Survival.

After a handshake with the druid, the two twins turned to the balcony leading from the side of the room. The they walked out with caution to look at the demons below.

Dante found his worst fears confirmed. The demons were even greater in number than he first had counted, and reinforcements were arriving.

Dante turned to Vergil, who had a grim expression on his face. Feigning confidence to cheer his brother up, Dante acted out a smirk and said:

"The more the merrier, eh? They're really just sending in more demons to get slaughtered!" he said with a patronising tone.

Vergil's face slightly brightened. Even though he could tell that neither he nor Dante actually believed in what he just said, he acted out a smile as well.

Vergil's expression darkened without warning. Dante's smile faltered.

"What?" he queried.

"MOVE!" Vergil bellowed, leaping at Dante, pushing them both to the ground.

Just as Dante turned to face Vergil and ask what the hell he was doing, a blast of green light the size and length of a tree trunk burned through where they were just standing. Dante dusted his coat as he stood up and gave Vergil a mod of thanks. Vergil slowly got up to look down and see what had just fired.

There was a crumbling sound.

Vergil ignored it and continued his inspection.

Dante noticed something wrong. Soon, it was his turn to push Vergil out of the way.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Vergil barked as he rose to his feet inside the door. Just as he was about to step back onto the balcony, it crumbled and collapsed, sending rubble and stone downwards to the unsuspecting demons.

Vergil ignored the squeals of crushed demons and turned to Dante.

"Fine. We're even."

And with that he strode off. Dante frowned and tried to figure out what had just happened. He caught the eye of a dirty-blonde Guardian, who shrugged his shoulders. Dante smirked and nodded.

Some of the elders were talking, and Dante didn't think looking out again would be a good idea, so he decided to sit down again.

"Hey, you," he called out to the Guardian with the dirty-blonde hair "What's your name?"

"Andrè," replied the Guardian "I don't need to ask yours, though."

Dante smiled and nodded.

"I know what you mean. Some of these people think me as something of a God."

Andrè smiled also.

"I don't know what you're complaining about. I'd love that kind of treatment!"

"Yeah," Dante replied "But it really starts to get annoying after a while."

Andrè thought for a while. There was no real reply to this, apart from contradiction, which would be rude, or agreement, which he didn't actually want to.

"You got any family?" he decided was a good one "Apart from your brother, I mean"

Dante's face was suddenly sullen and grave, all traces of happiness had abandoned his face. Andrè cut across, aware that he had touched a sore spot.

"Sorry-forget I said anything, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's alright," Dante said "I'd just rather not talk about that……you got any family?"

Andrè nodded, glad that Dante had steered away from apparently dangerous waters.

"Two sons. One's twenty-two, the other eighteen."

Dante returned to a smiling state and let loose a low whistle.

"Ooh, bet they drive you nuts! A teen and a twenty-two year old…how d'you manage?" he asked with a hint of humour in his voice.

Andrè smiled.

"They're not _that_ bad. Sure, the younger one is a bit hot-headed…" he paused there, directing his thoughts, wondering how they were holding out. After a few seconds, he continued "But apart from that, it's mostly okay."

Dante nodded, but in mock sympathy.

"Mostly? Bet they're a right pain in the ass the rest of the time!" Dante laughed "You must have the patience of a saint!…I probably would have lost it long ago if it were me…" he added as an afterthought.

Andrè chuckled.

"Nah, that's what you'd think, though. Sure, the younger one - Joel, I often have arguments with him. The elder one, Père, he's normally quiet. He's taking his new found Guardianship very seriously."

"What age d'you have to be to become a Guardian?"

"Twenty. That's more or less the age that your devil side has developed."

A sudden **bang** tore them away from the conversation. Dante hurried up and chanced a glance downwards from the open door which now led to nothing.

He grimaced as he turned to the Guardians and called out.

"They're using a battering ram at the entrance!"

* * *

Vlad bared his teeth as he clicked again. With a loud roar, the soldiers plunged the heavy iron battering ram into the shut entrance.

**THUMP!**

The door withheld after yet another smash of the battering ram, even if it was a little battered. There were large holes in the door, and splinters were jutting out. Then, Vlad got an idea.

He called out, instead of clicking again.

"That door has received enough smashes! Get some firewood and fuel - ve vill burn it down!" he bellowed in command.

With another roar in unison, the soldiers went about for wood and other fuel. Vlad turned to the tower. What would be the best way to conquer it? It would make a good place for meeting. Not that Pontius' mansion wasn't great, but this place had a good feeling to it. It was ancient, and had a history of demons. A nice reward, and another way to prove to Crìnge that he was right and Crìnge was wrong, something that he was almost sure the entire order wanted to do at some point or other. Crìnge wasn't actually a leader of the order, he was just the most respected. The order had no actual leaders.

_That may soon change…_he thought to himself, his smirk now a sinister grin.

After all, why not? He was Vlad the Impaler! The entire world feared him! And, who feared Crìnge, eh? He was virtually nonexistent! He doubted that anybody knew or feared him. The only people that knew him were the order, as Crìnge tended to do away with anybody else who seen him.

He nodded his approval as a small flare started at the door. A large pile of firewood was stocked up just beneath the door, covered in a strange highly flammable substance unknown to humans.

Soon, the flare grew up to a full fledged flame, covering the door.

* * *

Vergil strode through the corridor, clutching Sparda's diary. He knew that he had acted foolishly when he left Dante, but he was so caught up in his actions. He wasn't actually annoyed with Dante at all. He just wanted to leave the room to get back to the diary, not caring what he used as the means to do so.

Slowly and carefully, he opened up the diary, not wanting to damage the ancient diary. He had barely found the page when another alarm rang through the air. Vergil groaned. He would never get the chance to read the book in this accursed place!

Hastily shoving the book back into his coat pocket, he rushed back into the meeting room. When he opened the door, he met several grim faces.

"What is it?" he asked hurriedly.

Dante shrugged his shoulders, as he hadn't a clue as to what the bell signified. It was a different bell to the one that they had previously heard, so that meant that it had a different purpose.

"Fire!" a Guardian told him.

Vergil cursed under his breath. Great. Just what he needed. Anything to keep him away from his readings.

They all hurried down and followed the smell of smoke, which led them down to the entrance.

"Stop!" Dante suddenly commanded, just before they reached the door.

Some Guardians exchanged some surprised glances. So, the son of Sparda was planning on commanding them?

"Excuse me!" the druid suddenly called out.

Dante turned towards him, bemused.

"What?!"

"I'm not sure that you are aware of this, but only an elder or I may command the Guardians!"

The druid drew himself up to his full height and stared Dante right in the eye, hoping to intimidate. Dante drew himself up to _his_ full height, which was a much more impressive one. The druid seemed to quail under his stare.

"You've agreed to fight with me so go ahead," Dante said calmly "But, when I requested that you go to war with me, I didn't mean that you just fight on the same side. You either do as I command, or you can turn back right now, right up to your fancy meeting rooms, because I'm not planning to share command with anyone besides my brother and…"

He paused. He was going to say "General Tailor" but thought better of it. He had completely forgotten about Tailor. Feeling slightly guilty, he said:

"…And the US army or anyone other military."

Vergil noticed his pause and it's meaning, and his face went grim as well. He had gotten so caught up with Sparda's diary that he had completely forgotten about his friend and comrade.

This seemed to impress the druid, even though he looked mutinous. He was just about to talk back, but thought better of it.

"Anyway," Dante called out "Stay in groups! Align yourselves along either sides of the wall, leaving the centre free!"

As the Guardians, military, navy and SEALs went to do their orders, Vergil caught on to Dante's tactic in mind, then added to it.

"Those without room go to the very end of the line and make a blockage! Make sure that any demon that the others left don't make it past you!"

And so it was done.

The twins inspected their work with satisfaction. The plan was simple, yet undoubtedly affective. When the demons burst through, they would be forced to go through the middle, as both sides of the corridor were crowded. This would make them go into a narrow channel, thus making it easier to kill them. The soldiers and warriors on both sides would attack them, and when the survivors went through, they would meet a blockade at the end of the corridor, where they would be finished off.

The door was now collapsing upon itself due to the damage. And crumbling away in parts.

"Right, here we go…" Dante muttered to Vergil.

"Weapons drawn!" Vergil exclaimed.

There were several chinks of metal as blades, crossbows, bows and arrows, spears, javelins, throwing daggers, Beretta pistols, M16 assault rifles, shotguns, stingers (Rocket launchers) and sniper rifles were drawn and pulled out.

Dante gripped his twin handguns and Vergil aimed Betsy squarely at the door.

Dante got an idea.

"Those with long-range weapons to the front!" he called out.

There wasn't much movement; only the humans moved forward, and the Guardians stayed. They had both close and long ranged weapons, so they could do whatever they liked.

The plan was easy enough to comprehend. When the demons first come in, they would be pelted with long range weapons, when they came close enough would be the time for blades.

"Get ready…" Vergil murmured to those nearest to him.

* * *

The door was now black with several red and orange bits to it, due to the embers still on it. Vlad turned to his soldiers with another smirk plastered to his face.

"Give one more slam with the battering ram!"

The battering ram was brought up to the door for a second time and was set up by the soldiers of sin, who stood by it and gripped it.

Upon Vlad's command they all gave a single roar, then heaved and slammed it against the door as hard as they possibly could.

_**SMASH!!**_

The door, now weakened, collapsed and fell apart into splinters and ashes. A light haze of smoke and dust now covered the air, making it impossible to see through.

Inside, Dante and Vergil could sense the amount of enemies on the other side, so they prepared their troops.

Vlad rose his curved blade into the air, then called out for his soldiers to move in.

"Chaaaaarge!!" he roared, then he, along with his soldiers, charged into the unknown, blades held at the ready.

Vlad tore through the haze swiftly, unsure of what was on the other side. He didn't have senses like the other greater demons, so he was caught off guard when he could see again.

On each side of him were humans and Guardians, all heavily armed. They went up all the way through the corridor, and at the end he could see a block up of opponents.

He turned back, only to see his own soldiers blocking the door as they entered. He was quite literally, trapped. He ignored the bullets tearing through his flesh. They only stung, and didn't cause serious damage. Well, he came all the way over here, he would not be put off by a trap. He shouldn't have been so hasty in entering the building.

He sliced his blade through a nearby human, leaving a fatal gash in his chest. He smiled at the human's screams as he fell.

He ducked as a Guardian swung his sword at his head, then elbowed the Guardian in the stomach. While he was still winded, Vlad drove his blade into his stomach. With a sickening squelch, he pulled it back out.

The Guardian retaliated with a smack across the head with the blunt of his blade.

Vlad was not expecting this, as he was almost sure that all of these people were human. He hissed as he felt a slight headache spread through his head. That would have knocked out any lesser being than him. Then, Vlad rose his foot into the Guardians crotch. With a squeak, he fell.

Knowing what he was doing now, Vlad brought his blade swiftly down into the skull of the half-demon. Wiping his blade against the armour of his fallen victim, Vlad examined his surroundings. A lot of his soldiers were falling for the trap; they were being hacked and shot at until they reached the end, where they would be finished off. Dammit, even some of their more intelligent demons were acting the complete fool!

He would soon turn the tide though. Ducking low, he tripped up a nearby human and grabbed onto his back, using him as a shield as he ran to the door. He would not be bested by some stupid plan. He could see the sons of Sparda near the door, decimating his troops. Crìnge was wrong, but this time Vlad was not glad by it; the sons of Sparda seemed to have settled their differences, and were fighting along like, well, brothers! Vlad plunged his fangs into the human's neck and sucked. The human let out a strangled croaking noise as the blood left his bloodline, then went silent. Pushing the dieing human into the one clad in red, he managed to create a diversion for him to sprint out the door.

Dante groaned as he pushed the soldier off of him.

"Watch yourself!" he barked as he rose to his knees. He never got an answer.

He gasped as he noticed two small holes bored into the mans neck. The man's face was pale, and there didn't seem to be any spilt blood. Dante knew that the battle was only a minute or two long by now, so the man should have still had some colour in his face, even if it was a little faint. The holes were very recent, so that meant that the man should at least have some warmth in him, yet his entire body was cold and ghostly white.

"Watch yourself!" Vergil suddenly called out as he let a green laser get absorbed by Yamato.

He couldn't deflect them, as they weren't solid, but Yamato was a blessed (or cursed) katana. It wouldn't be burned, cracked, broken, melted, snapped or scraped or anything else that may be used to break it. Unless of course, the being who blessed it wanted otherwise. But, since Sparda was no longer among the living, that was impossible. The same went for Rebellion.

Dante rose to his feet and nodded his thanks. The demons were all around them, so long range weapons weren't necessary. He pulled Rebellion off of his back, likewise for Vergil with Yamato.

"Miss me?" Vergil muttered to his beloved sword, which had been in it's scabbard for quite a while now.

He stabbed it into a nearby demon, severely damaging it. Sensing danger from behind, he forced the demon to cover him while Yamato was still in him. A green laser tore into the demon, which was now acting as Vergil's hostage. Grabbing Betsy in a single hand (A feat a human would have difficulty with) he fired, the demon in front of him taking all damage.

Dante smirked in appreciation as he watched while ducking an enemy's swipe. Vergil had finally started using both weapons in style together.

Turning his attention back to the demons trying to kill him, Dante jumped and twirled in the air, sticking his foot out into the demon's chest, roundhouse kicking him into the wall, where Rebellion found it's skull a split second later. He was just about to strike another nearby demon when a loud voice cut through the air.

"Stop!"

Both Dante and the demon turned to see what was causing the noise. Dante's heart skipped a beat.

Vlad was standing by the entrance, his hand held into the air, a dark haze surrounding it.

Levitated by the same coloured haze in the air beside him was Tailor, suspended and unable to move.

"Stop!!" Vlad repeated.

Dante and Vergil's eyes found each other, both of them filled with fear.

"You heard him!" Vergil called out, not wanting to think about what he was doing. A small part of him, a part that had been quiet for some time was inwardly disgusted with himself. He was stopping a battle for a single measly human's sake.

Both sides stopped their actions. The Guardians and military following the twins orders, and the soldiers of sin listening to Vlad's commands of 'stop!'.

Vlad smirked; he had them where he wanted them. By the looks of the humans' faces, this man was important.

"If you want your friend alive and unharmed, you will surrender," Vlad stated.

Dante and Vergil muttered to themselves. That was not too bad a price. They were expecting far worse.

Dante opened his mouth to agree, but Vlad suddenly stopped him.

"Vait…" he suddenly said.

If he came back with the humans still alive, it would not matter to the order whether he had won or not. He needed at the very least for a son of Sparda to die.

"I have a better plan," he suddenly said, a sinister smile spreading across his face "You will get this human alive and well _if_ you surrender one of the sons of Sparda."

A silence hung in the air. Dante and Vergil exchanged shocked glances. Dante chanced a glance up at Tailor. Tailor's face looked grim, and he was managing to shake his head wildly, to say that they shouldn't do it.

Dante drew himself up to his full height, a plan forming in his mind. It wasn't a good one, but it was all he had.

"Okay," he exclaimed, loud and clear.

There was a slight gasp of shock spreading across the entranceway. They had not expected an agreement like this.

Vergil tugged on his shoulder, his face livid.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, you idiot?!" he hissed angrily "We can narrow down the deal!"

Dante grasped Vergil's hand and loosened it's grip on his coat. He gave a tiny smile, which he made so that only Vergil could see.

"Trust me," he whispered.

Before Vergil could open his mouth again, Dante had strode off towards Vlad.

Vlad's eyes were widened in shock. He never expected, yet hoped, that they would agree. He watched as the son of Sparda clad in red stride towards him.

Then, Dante froze.

"The deal?" he asked.

Vlad nodded wordlessly and clicked. Tailor fell to the ground with a **thud**. He groaned and slowly rose to his feet, yet his expression was not that of relief, but of annoyance. He walked slowly towards Dante.

Suddenly a dark haze spread around Dante, trying to lift him off of his feet, but in vain. Vlad's eyes widened yet again as Tailor walked past Dante.

Dante heard a voice behind him, that of Tailor.

"What the hell are you doing? You should have left me!" he said in anger.

"Trust me," Dante repeated quietly.

The haze was still surrounding Dante, but was unable to lift him off of his feet. Vlad grinned. He had forgotten. He had gotten so used to beings being lifted from his willpower that he had completely forgotten the fact that powerful enough demons were able to resist it.

"Stop playing games," Vlad called out "A deal is a deal, you come vith me."

Dante strode forward, everyone in sight watching him. Vergil was deep in thought. What kind of plan could Dante be possibly be coming up with? Dante wasn't known for using tactics, that was more like him…

Dante walked forward, as the soldiers of sin were ordered by mind to come back.

"Hold it," Dante suddenly said "The deal was for me to come, you changed plan. There was nothing in this new deal about us surrendering."

Vlad blinked. This was true. He had underestimated the hybrid, not thinking that he would be able to find loopholes.

Vergil grinned. If this was Dante's plan, it was a feeble one. But still, it was coming to use. Focusing on the back of a demon's head, where the chainable resided, he fired a blue blade into it.

The blade cut through the chain mail and killed the demon, who let out a shriek of pain before falling to the ground.

All hell broke loose; a brotherly demon retaliated with a blast of an _Alpha_, which Vergil ducked. A Guardian received the blast, but wasn't killed by it. He threw his spear back into the demon, which got cut through his arm. Then, almost everybody else broke into combat.

Dante stood before Vlad grinning. Little did Vergil know, that wasn't his plan, but he decided to use it anyway.

Vlad had other ways of getting people to do his bidding. Even the more powerful demons had no clue as to how to defend their mind, even if they could keep their limbs in check.

Vlad rose his hand again and closed his eyes and focused hard.

Dante suddenly took a step forward without thinking it. He walked a wonky stride up towards Vlad while unable to prevent anything. If he was in control of his body, he would have yelled in surprise and shock.

Dante tried to prevent his feet moving forward, but he couldn't do it. He looked up and saw Vlad smiling, his eyes still closed.

"Stop vasting your energy, it vill have no use."

Dante had a mute fit of anger. He was helpless to Vlad's command.

Then, in desperation, he transformed, looking for some way to force his way out of Vlad's power. He focused hard in his now more powerful mind.

Vlad gasped, as an unbearable pain cut through his mind like a rusty axe. This couldn't be right…this was the first time a being broke out of his influence. He had never tried it on any member of the order, as he wouldn't dare…but he never counted on powerful beings being able to break out.

He took out his curved blade to strike Dante but found nobody there in front of him. All he could see was the battle raging in front of the tower in front of him.

He turned his head left and right, but to no success. Cursing, Vlad scanned the place intently. If only he could sense others like just about _every other devil in existence_…

Then, a chink of metal was heard from behind him. Turning slowly around, Vlad found himself staring into a pair of red, monstrous eyes. Even though he would tell no-one, he knew that those eyes would mean his downfall some day or other. Deciding to himself that it would not be this day, Vlad struck out with his blade before the son of Sparda could.

Dante managed to leap out of the main danger of the blade, but with a quiet sound of pain, he felt a piece of it sear through some of the flesh on his shoulder.

A sphere of red light enclosed and bound into him as he turned human again. He didn't have enough energy left to stay in devil-form.

Vlad laughed and pointed his blade straight at Dante and saluted. Dante, knowing what was about to happen, grasped Rebellion firmly.

Their eyes met for a second, before each charged at the other.

* * *

Vergil grinned as he made a hostage out of yet another demon. This was becoming more and more fun by the second. He drew his attention to Dante, who was now deep in battle with Vlad. Trust Dante to come up with a plan like _that_. It was very well thought out. Dante could have been killed by now, long before he got a chance to begin a fight.

His grin was upgraded to a smirk as the demon in front was scorched by a merciless volley of green lasers of various sizes. He pushed his shield, which was amazingly still alive, even if barely, into a nearby demon which was giving a SEAL a hard time.

As they both fell, and before Vergil could bring Yamato down, the SEAL had flung a grenade at the pair, then he dashed off.

**BANG!!**

The two bodies were flung many feet into the air, then their limp figures came back down to earth with a _thump_. Vergil raised an eyebrow as he kicked the bodies, searching for life. He had underestimated humans again.

He looked back into the end of the entrance corridor, where the blockage group he had set up were suffering severely from the unyielding onslaught of the soldiers of sin.

Then, as he ran forward, and before he could do anything, a large blast of green light was blasted at the large group. It was almost the size of a tree trunk, the very same size as the one that destroyed the balcony.

_**BOOM!!**_

Vergil watched helplessly as another explosion went through the warm midday sun. All of the soldiers, including those of sin, were vaporised and burned by the laser and it's explosive properties.

Vergil turned, his eyes filled with anger, in the direction from where the blast had originated from. A soldier of sin was on it's knees, holding a _Nightmare_ weapon, which, due to it's size, was attached not only to it's right hand and arm, but on it's shoulder also. Unable to help a roar of wrath, Vergil decapitated it with his incredibly sharp katana.

A split second later, Vergil was already putting Yamato back into it's scabbard, slowing it's progress down just before it was fully encased in the ornately decorated hilt.

He picked up the weapon which was detaching itself from the dead soldier's shoulder, as if it could sense that it's owner had deceased. Vergil picked it up and inspected it. It was labelled: _Nightmare Fury_.

Vergil left it there. It wasn't his style. Then again, Betsy wasn't his style, but he was still using it. He turned to face the corridor, which was now littered with dead bodies, and with unchallenged soldiers of sin sprinting into the tower, which was unprotected.

He turned back, and bellowed at the nearest group of Guardians and military soldiers to follow him inside. He knew that it would be simply foolish to charge in alone, the numbers of the opposition inside was too great for that. He was not known for being hasty and thoughtless, and never allowed himself to get caught up in the moment.  
Andrè was among those of whom were joining Vergil. He knew that there were tunnels leading from inside that the young and ancient ones were fleeing in.

Thinking of Joel and Père, he ran up in front of Vergil, leading the way.

* * *

_Several Miles Away:-_

Crìnge stared out of one of the many large windows of Pontius' mansion. Vlad was now long gone, and Crìnge could sense that he was still alive. The rest of the order were chatting to themselves, talking about their pasts since the last meeting, which had been something like a millennia ago. Much too long a time for friends and comrades to be separated.

Closing his eyes, Crìnge made a fast decision. He called out in his deep, whispering tone, yet it was loud and clear, so everyone heard every word.

"Get ready, we will not wait for Vlad for any longer."

The sentence seemed to echo off the walls, the last syllable spoken repeating itself over and over.

"We will not head for Egypt just yet," Crìnge continued, his eyes still closed "I wish, and I would imagine that all of you do too, to check on Vlad's progress. If he is failing, then we will leave. It was his own fault for being rash. If he is winning, then we will finish off the remainder of the humans."

The order exchanged excited glances. Finally. Some action.

Crìnge opened his eyes and allowed himself to smirk, the red eye above the white ones becoming blue.

He turned to face the others, who were astounded by his change of expression.

"Let's not keep him waiting, shall we?"

* * *

_Joe: Whew, that's the longest chapter I've ever written! It's the longest, actually, that I think I've ever seen. No, I'm not bragging, as you probably got bored halfway through it._

_Sorry._

_Anyway, this chapter was pretty important as far as plot goes, as you discovered several different things. The Sparda thing especially._

_Well, apart from the boredom, I hope it was a good chapter to read (I would, since it must have taken up quite a good amount of your time! Sorry again!)_

_Oh, and one more thing before I finish, remember what I said about Gromit's latest fic? The new chapter should be up soon (I hope!) remember, it's called **Predator: War**_.

_If you're into Predator, you really should check it out. The first chapter wasn't really important to the plot, except for the last few lines. But really, from what I've seen of the next chapter, it's gonna be good._

_That's it for now, so, _

_Ciao._


	10. The Catacombs

_Disclaimer:- Let's see……I don't own Devil May Cry, any copyrighted affiliations of it, or anything that may get me in a pile of trouble. All I own are a select few OCs, all of whom I hope you enjoy. So, go ahead and read on (I'm assuming that you didn't open this fic up just to hear the disclaimer. If you did, kindly skip to the bottom of the page and tell me what you thought of it)_

_Joe:- Sorry for the long wait, I don't actually have an excuse. I have a reason, but not an excuse. I simply never found the time to update quickly. This chapter's a big one, and took a good long while to write. I hope you all appreciate how big it is (Not: You might as well put that in your reviews. Oh, and I want them to be big too!!). _

_Speaking of reviews, I also apologise for the many reviews that I never replied to (So, let me now. They were all brilliant reviews; I would love to get some more.) because I haven't been on this for a while._

_Gromit's **Predator: War** has been updated, twice. Even though he may kill me for spilling it, it involves Uzi wielding Jamaicans, very irritable old ladies, and hooded figures. And, of course, one mean Predator._

_I feel very proud. No-one has cracked the code and discovered who Sparda's brother is. Not one of you included within their review (Thanks again) their idea of whom Sparda's brother is. It's too late now, because I've obviously just posted this chapter, which contains the answer. If you do, I'll know that you just read on and found out yourself. Hah. _

_And now, for the grand finale of the Battle of the Divine, of which I have started to get bored of, and therefore why I am ending it now._

_Here we go. (Oh, and I know that I shouldn't do this, but, **Laryna6**, the reason for Matier's absence is coming up.)_

* * *

Joel sighed with impatience as he traipsed on after the miserable old elder in front. He was currently part of a large group of young people and ancient vegetables (not literal vegetables) that were unfit for battle. Père was marching alongside him, his once enthusiastic and confident face now reduced to one of extreme boredom. They had been on the go for some time now, with the only eventful experience being an old man's transformation, which he had triggered due to shock of the sudden appearance of a perfectly harmless cave-bat. After a hasty return to normal, everything went silent again.

Up ahead, Joel noticed the old one stagger. He had been leading this godforsaken group of people for a while, and age was starting to take it's toll on him. He was getting too old for this.

Joel heard Père give a sigh of relief beside him as the old man sat down on a rock nearby.

"I think that we'll take a rest now," the old coot announced in a wheezy voice.

Joel gave no pretence of friendliness to this man. It was hard to sympathise with, (In Joel's opinion) a selfish old bastard. He was taking a rest _now_, when _he_ needed a rest. But, when someone _else_ was literally about to collapse, would he even slow down the pace?

Of course not. He would merely signal for Joel to help him to his/her feet.

Joel got a strange suspicion that the old guy hated Joel as much as Joel hated him. Every time the two spoke to each other, it would be in cold tones.

Joel walked over to a coffin nearby and inspected it. It was severely crumbled away, making it basically a pile of pebbles with a dead body inside. The stench was unbearable. Joel loathed these stupid catacombs. They stunk, they were much too long than necessary, and they gave you an eerie feeling that you were being watched. Something that no-one wants to feel when in the presence of the deceased.

But, Joel was not complaining at the moment, something that boded to Père as an ominous sign. For, Joel normally never kept his thoughts bottled up. The main reason of his silence was because of his growing concern for his father's well-being.

Père placed his hand onto Joel's shoulder. "It'll be alright," he said in a reassuring voice.

Joel looked up at him, his eyes glinting from the little light that was being produced from various lit torches. He was apparently suppressing tears.

Now, seeing an 18 year old boy (or, man) in tears was not a happy sight. What made it even worse was that Père knew exactly why the tears were coming out.

"It won't be like last time," Père stated, in a further attempt to reassure his younger brother.

Rather than making the situation better, it just made it worse. Memories sprang, unbidden, into Joel's head, memories that he would prefer to pretend never happened.

For, years ago, when the two brothers were in single-digits, a terrible tragedy happened. Something that was so far similar to the current situation.

A large band of demons were approaching the small town in which they resided. The alarm went off, and the Guardians prepared themselves from the onslaught soon to come.

The boys' mother was one of them.

Joel had pulled on her pants when she had turned to leave. He had been 5 at the time, so when he rose a toy sword, he wasn't taken seriously.

His mother, laughing, had stated the same thing that his father had just after the alarm rang after the ritual.

_You're too young_.

And, another thing, that Joel had heard from both his parents again., something that made him more anxious than normal about this new attack. It all seemed so familiar.

_I'll return, I promise._

Of course, the mother had died in the attack. Ever since, the two boys had been traumatised. Loss of a mother at such a young age.

And now, Joel didn't know whether fate would decide to do the same thing it did to him years ago. He wouldn't be able to bear it if it did. It would simply be too much.

Forcing a smile, Joel nodded his thanks. He walked up to a Guardian that had been assigned to watch over them. She was red-haired and carried twin blades.

"Excuse me?" he said politely.

"Yes?" the guradian replied "...Joel, isn't it? You're Andrè's son."

Joel nodded in response.

"The name's Lucia. Pleased to meet you," she extended an arm, and Joel shook it. "I guess that you're fairly irritated. That you aren't fighting, I mean. You look close to Guardianship age."

"Yeah," Joel said vaguely "But, eh, that's not why I wanted to talk to you."

She put on a hurt expression.

"You had a reason? And here I was thinking you were trying to be polite."

"Wha-?" Joel stuttered "No-sorry, I mean-"

"I'm joking!" she interjected, laughing.

"Oh…right-yeah," Joel mumbled "Anyway, I need to ask, you see, I know that you lost a family member before, so I wondered-"

The smiled faded from the Guardian's face and was replaced with a grim expression. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Well, I, uh, wondered," Joel pressed on, still stuttering "How d'you manage?"

The Guardian was saved from answering that depressing question by a scream from the end of the group.

The two quickly stood up to see what had caused the distress.

A young girl was squealing and pointing down the path, where demons were sprinting towards them, weapons drawn. The Guardian held out an arm, preventing Joel from advancing.

Then, she held out her twin blades and ran at the oncoming enemy.

Joel watched helplessly as she struck a demon on the head. This was suicide. There were far too many, with even more arriving by the second. Père, being a newly stated Guardian, sprung up to help her, pulling his sword out of it's scabbard.

Joel could only back off as he watched a battle rage. The demons were recovering from the initial surprise of finding fighters among the young and weak, and were now going full on.

He was so engrossed in the battle that he did not notice the demon approach him from the side. It was only when the demon had started swinging it's blade did Joel realise it's presence. Reacting only by primal instinct, Joel ducked the swipe, then jumped back out of harms immediate path.

The demon was angered by it's target's evasion, but felt that it would not last longer. Taking a forward step, it spun it's staff towards Joel, hoping to cleave him in the chest multiple times. Joel managed to leap backwards, but not in time to dodge the full damage of the blade. One of the blades cut through his sleeve and some of his arm, leaving a cursed and steaming cut behind.

Gasping, Joel seized his arm automatically in pain, but then stumbled and tripped.

Looking up, he saw the demon raising the staff above it's head, ready to bring it swiftly down for the kill. Joel could hear his heart beat differently; faster and louder, he could feel it beating into his ribcage.

He closed his eyes and gulped, waiting for the end to come. He heard the demon give a last roar of satisfaction before it brought the blade down. Joel winced with the thought of what should be happening almost immediately.

It never came.

Daring a glimpse, Joel slightly opened his eyes. He could make out a new silhouette beside the opposing one closest to him. Opening them fully, he saw Père struggling with his sword held out, stopping the staff's descent.

The demon looked furious. Every time it was about to finish off Joel, something would prevent it. Judging by Père's groans, the demon was winning the tiny war between the two. Roaring, this time louder than the last, it threw Père off. Joel watched as Père went into the air, then his head collided with the wall, knocking him out-cold.

Feeling a sudden unexplainable anger, Joel rose his foot and kicked the demon in the chest. Fortunately for the demon, it was armoured, preventing it from receiving enough damage to do anything. But, an angered half-demon, even it is young, has astonishing strength, more powerful than a grown human. Therefore, the demon was knocked off it's feet.

Joel got up, his arm still hurting. He only remembered that he didn't stand a chance against the demon when it rose, livid. Joel could almost see the steam erupting from the holes in it's mask where it's nostrils presumably were.

But, once again, the demon's chances of killing it's target were reduced by interference.

For, the party of soldiers that had followed the demons inside the tower had arrived, Joel's father included. The opposing demons that had just entered not ten minutes ago were facing two-on-one numbers. Previously, they only had one fully trained and fit Guardian, an untested novice, and the odd selection of old people with some fight left in them.

Now, however, they were facing a division of the forces that they had previously fought.

Vergil took in his surroundings. The majority of the people here, apart from his warriors, were too old or young for anything. He was taken roughly from these thoughts as a blade went slicing through the air, approaching his head.

Vergil ducked, then reached out and grabbed onto the pole of the staff.

He pulled on it, trying to take it. The demon, sensing Vergil's choice of action, pulled it towards itself, trying to prevent Vergil from robbing his weapon.

Vergil bent down low, then retrieved a dagger from his belt, then slashed just below the demon's hand, on a severe weak spot on any being with a pulse.

The opposing force from the blade was relinquished as the demon squealed in anguish as blood spurted uncontrollably from it's wrist. Vergil yanked it off in victory, then watched with a twisted grin as the poor creature died of blood loss.

He then swiftly turned to slash at an oncoming enemy with his newfound weapon. He was surprised at how light it was, yet it was strong, wrought of an unknown substance. The curse on it was effective too, he realised. It slowed down the healing process of any demonic entity, and the wound inflicted continuously stung.

The only bad thing about it was the rancid stench the stench the steam erupting from it made.

He spun it in swerving arcs across his body, deflecting all of the attacks that were coming from surrounding enemies. He spun with it, increasing it's velocity, then worked his body downwards, severing the enemies unprotected kneecaps.

When they all fell, he threw one like a javelin at one of the helpless demons. The rest were dispatched by a hail of magically charged bullets from Betsy.

Andrè searched around the catacomb corridor in which the battle was raging. His sons should be around here somewhere…

He slammed his poled mace into the back of an unwary demon's head, crushing it's skull.

Ignoring it's screams of pain, he pushed it out of his way to continue his search.

His eyes rested upon a small figure evading death at the hands of a demon. Nearby the two, he could see an unmoving figure against a rock. Dashing forward, he held out his mace.

His yellows eyes shone out, exterminating the white and pupil of the eye, all that could be seen in them was a yellow light. For, a yellow mist was coming out of his newly formed body.

As the traditions went, those with yellow eyes had devil-forms of humanoid form with an alteration of some form or other.

Andrè's was a pitch-black skinned form with black hair. The blue armour that he was wearing was formed a darker shade, and his mace was shining, with yellow steam coming from it. His hands were horned, as were his ankles, which had punched a hole through his footwear. Had his thoughts not been fixed on the protection of his children, he would have cursed; those boots were expensive.

With a guttural roar, he slammed the mace across the demon's side, knocking him flying into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Focusing, Andrè pointed the end of his mace at the crippled enemy and fired his attack.

A yellow beam of some form of energy blasted into the demon's body, disintegrating it and leaving a black smudge on the wall; the only remains of the demon.

The powerful attack that he had just unleashed had leeched Andrè of his remaining stored energy. A sphere of yellow light bound into him, until he was back in his regular form.

He turned to Joel, who was now wearing a look of extreme relief. Joel took a step forwards his father, but halted when Andrè noticed something that made him grip his mace again. A roar had alerted him to a demon that was about to finish off the still figure of Père.

Vergil turned from the pile of dead enemies around him to check on his companions. He found an enemy that was about to cleave through a Guardian with dirty blonde hair who had his back turned.

Sprinting forward with his katana held out, Vergil jumped and raised Yamato to stab into the back of the demon. His grip slightly loosened when he realised it was too late.

Joel raised an eyebrow, unaware of why his father hadn't taken a step forward to aid Père. He turned his head to see what was wrong. He worked hard to stop himself from doing something stupid: the demon approaching Père was within blade's reach of Père.

He received the familiar helpless sensation for the umpteenth time that day as he watched tragedy occur. The demon raised the blade high above it's head, then brought it down.

Time seemed to slow down for Joel, as he watched in horror as the blade forced it's way down to Père's unconscious form. He let out a yell just before the bladed staff cut through Père's flesh, then down his body, making it look impossible for it to recover at any point.

His heart felt like it was bleeding, there was nothing he could do now. He felt an odd sensation of anguish spread across his features. He had just watched his brother die in front of him. He felt weak, fragile, as if a poison was going through his system.

_First Mom, and now Père?_

Vergil felt a sudden surge of anger. The demon had stabbed it's blade into the back of Andrè's body, tearing through the space where Andrè's heart undoubtedly was. Feeling the least he could do was kill the demon that killed Andrè, Vergil killed the demon in the same manner that it had killed Andrè: into the back of it's body and through it's heart. He twisted Yamato in a corkscrewing fashion, savouring the moment of vengeance. _An eye for an eye_, he thought grimly, _a heart for a heart_.

The demon gave one last shriek before dematerialising.

It was in the worst of moments did Joel turn to see his father's expression of the loss of his son, but found something else, something that would burn into his head for the rest of his life, along with the death of his mother and brother, though _this_ would be clearer, marking his path of action for his life.

There was his father, a blade coming into his back and out through his front, where his heart was. He was already in a weakened state from his previous loss, so he was completely unprepared for this.

He could see his father directly in front of him, the blade of his attacker coming through him.

_But all he could see behind Andrè was Vergil, his blade stabbed into the back of Andrè._

* * *

Dante parried a strike from Vlad, then counter-attacked, attempting a slash through his chest.

But Vlad was too quick; immediately after Dante's parry, he brought his curved blade back towards Dante, blocking the slash.

The two swords clashed, each of the two fighters attempting to knock the blade out of the other's hands. Dante stared into the grinning expression of Vlad, his own teeth clenched.

"Not bad," Vlad stated, not showing any signs of strain "I expected nothing less from Sparda's son."

Making a quick decision, Dante stopped pushing, letting Vlad's blade come forward and force his upward. With huge determination, Dante kept his grip on the sword, then brought it to swish through Vlad's unprotected stomach.

Vlad groaned, and stepped back.

"You have no idea what I can do," Dante replied, taking an upward stance with Rebellion.

Vlad actually laughed, which managed to unnerve Dante.

"You're very like your father! Do you know that?" he said, casually swinging his blade upwards to break Dante's stance.

"You knew him?" Dante spat, spinning to recover from his broken stance, then lunged "I never knew that he associated himself with filth like you!"

Vlad was still smiling, although he was showing signs of stinging from the insult. It was as if he regularly had pleasant conversation with battling enemies.

"Did you not know? He wasn't a rebel from the beginning," Vlad answered, parrying the lunge "In fact, we were in speaking terms, a good devil, if you don't mind me saying."

Dante struck Rebellion upwards after Vlad knocked it down after the lunge. He smirked as he nicked Vlad's leg, but not causing any damage. He seemed to be having the upper hand, but he had a grim feeling that Vlad wasn't giving his full potential.

_Well_, he thought, _his loss. It's his own fault if I kill him before he's ready_.

Deciding to go all out and catch Vlad by surprise, Dante froze for about a second. Vlad stared at him with a raised eyebrow, unaware as to what Dante was planning. Dante focused for another while, preparing himself to go as fast as he possibly could - teleportation, as the humans called it.

Vlad stood there, watching with unease. He knew that the half-demon was planning something, but didn't know what it was. He had seen demons do the same stance before, and set a curse onto anyone who touched them while in that stance.

However, it didn't look like Dante was doing the same thing. Choosing to act quickly, Vlad held out his sword, then took a step forward and swung.

Just before the blade made contact with Dante, Vlad noticed Dante's eyes flash red, then he disappeared.

Vlad took on a middle stance with his blade, ready to deflect any incoming attacks that he was sure would come soon. A rustle to his left made him desert his stance and swipe.

He hit nothing but air.

Dante, sensing that Vlad had fallen for his little diversion, struck him from Vlad's right.

Vlad let out a howl, not because pf the pain, but rather of impatience and annoyance.

Before Vlad could attack Dante again, his eyes flashed red again and he was gone once more. Vlad heard a rustle behind him.

He clenched his teeth. He wouldn't fall for that again. He kept his ready stance, waiting for Dante to come.

It was only when he noticed at the last moment that he had fallen for Dante's trick again, for Dante had attacked him from behind.

Vlad was knocked onto all fours. With a burst of anger and white hot fury, he pointed his fingers at Dante and clicked.

Before Dante could move again, a flurry of bats attacked him, the sanguinary pack biting at him from all angles. Dante tried in vain to beat the crowd off of him.

Vlad made his move while his enemy was distracted by his bats. Focusing some energy into his blade, he concentrated hard on his next attack.

The curved blade shone violet, indicating that the attack was ready. Aiming with the end of his blade, Vlad chose what spot to hit.

Bolts of violet electricity crackled as it erupted from the tip of the blade, then they zoomed around the air for a while. Then, as quick as a flash, they went on a bee-line towards the target aimed at.

Dante's eyes unfocused as he fell to his knees, feeling a considerable amount of pain going through his system; the bolts of violet lightning had struck him right between his legs, in the crotch.

He remained on the ground for a good while, trying to make the pain stop.

But, it was not to be, for Vlad was soon beside him, pointing his fingers at him again. A small group of bats appeared, grabbed Dante by the shoulders, then held him up into the air.

Vlad focused another type of energy into his sword, smirking in a sinister fashion as Dante stared at him reproachfully.

Releasing the energy, Vlad unleashed an attack at Dante's chest.

What looked like transparent violet purple ropes bound into Dante, inflicting damage onto his body. Dante screamed in pain as the violet ropes kept on binding tighter and tighter.

With a click of his fingers, Vlad made the bats disappear, and the ropes. Dante fell onto the ground, his breaths forced and ragged.

Vlad smiled at his work. He had gone a little too hard on the mongrel, but, then again, it _had_ infuriated him with it's stupid little disappearing act.

Vlad rose his blade into the air, deciding to finish off the son of Sparda. He brought it down swiftly.

Dante knew that it was a stupid thing to do, but the only thing that he could do was a desperate attempt to keep alive.

Feebly moving his fingers, he concentrated the demonic battle energy that he had received from the last long week of battling; a considerable amount of power.

The air around him went white, and everything went into negative colours. Dante rolled over, only narrowly missing the falling blade, which was now going slowly downwards.

If he wasn't in considerable pain, Dante would have laughed at the expression on Vlad's face, and the way he went "Huh?" in slow motion, making it sound much longer and humorous. Dante always had a good time using this technique on enemies.

Dante devil triggered, the normally red sphere of binding light becoming light blue. He stuck his finger out into the air, making the air go back to normal, and making the distorted air around Dante go red. He felt his wounds go away quicker than normal as his black scales patched up the scars on his skin.

"Come on, then!" He taunted, his voice echoing through his vocal chords alone.

Vlad bared his teeth, showing two fangs where his canine teeth should have been. He didn't expect such a move from a half-demon, maybe the Sparda blood going through him wasn't tainted with the human's…

It didn't matter anyway, all that mattered at the moment was that Dante was still alive, and that needed remedy.

Vlad stood still, letting his enemy come to him. So far he had underestimated Dante, and he was not going to make that mistake again.

Dante stood still as well. The longer he stalled, the better. He was still wounded, and if he waited a little longer, he would feel better. He had tonnes of energy to spare: he had ever since the demons had multiplied, back in New York. He could keep this up for hours if he wanted to. And, so far, Vlad had proved to be impatient, he was bound to attack first, one way or other.

Dante felt better. His scales were now intact, and he felt no pain where the bolts of electricity struck. Oh, well, he might as well attack first.

Spreading out a pair of wings, Dante leapt into the air (Note: I'm deciding to make him fly properly, like in DMC2, not like the crappy hover in the other ones) and beat his wings to go high into the air, then kept his position.

Vlad stared up, his mouth set to a grim expression. If he wanted to play high, they could play high. Surely, Dante was forgetting who he was fighting?

Vlad's fangs lengthened, then a film of skin grew out from the bottom of his arm, then, he joined Dante high into the air.

He was greeted by a sword thrown like a boomerang. Vlad evaded to the left, but felt the tip of Rebellion nicking a piece of his chest. Vlad countered with a blast of electricity, which got Dante in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Groaning, Dante tried to breath regularly as he flew a bit higher to dodge a second blast. He should have brought Sparda with him. Vlad would be long gone by now. Dante could sense that he wasn't as powerful as Mundus, so maybe a few blasts from his fists and a dragon of flame would have finished Vlad.

However, Dante felt that he could kill Vlad without it. He had the potential.

Focusing hard, Dante made a copy of himself appear beside him. It was transparent and had a dark shade to it, but it could still damage enemies.

The two split: the shadow going behind Vlad while Dante took him head on. Vlad never noticed the transparent figure go behind him, all he saw was Dante coming straight at him, Rebellion held out as if to spear Vlad. Vlad raised his hand to click, but never managed to.

For, a blade had just impaled him from behind. Vlad took in a wheezing breath as the blade was pulled out, causing more damage. He turned around to see a dark shadow of Dante looking at him expressionlessly, his face blank. Vlad swept at it with his blade, but it only went through it. Then, just before he could react, a hand gripped him from behind, and he felt Rebellion just at his throat. The shadow before him vanished, as Dante focused all of his power into this last stroke.

Vlad gulped in panic, but regretted doing so immediately afterwards, as he felt Rebellion even closer to his throat.

_Crìnge was right_, he thought miserably , _I shouldn't have gone_.

Suddenly, Rebellion crackled, as red electricity ran up and down it. Dante's echoing voice ran through the air, like the angel of death.

"Tell Mundus I was asking for him."

That was the last thing Vlad heard as Dante pulled the crackling blade sharply to the side, slitting Vlad's throat.

* * *

Vergil and the survivors of the small band walked slowly out of the entrance to the tower. The sun was high in the sky now, casting it's warmth onto all of them. The demons that had entered the tower had been vanquished, and the young ones and the old had been saved. The only exception being a son of Andrè, and a small group of elders that had been foolish enough to try fighting. The only loss of the warriors were Andrè and a dark haired Guardian that had risked his life defending a pair of small children. The Guardian that had been assigned to protect the evacuees had survived, and had claimed to have met Dante before.

Vergil put his hand above his eyebrows to shield them from the sun as he gazed out to the small remains of fighting. Apparently, the head had just been cut off the snake, as he had received information that Dante had emerged from the fight with Vlad victorious.

All of the demons were not yet gone, but were still fighting honourably, their purpose for life gone, but still choosing to die fighting. They were now reduced to a small group, more than three quarters of them slain. They were putting up a brave fight.

Vergil broke out of his usual ways and smiled, for he could see a familiar face blowing the head off one of the demons with a shotgun directly in the face, then turning to Vergil and waving.

"All right, there?" Tailor called out.

"I'm still alive, at least!" Vergil replied, grinning broadly.

Tailor walked up to Vergil, swinging his shotgun from side to side.

"Ah, well, that's all we can hope for," he said "Can the same be said for Dante? Haven't seen him since he decided to be an idiot and agree with the Michael Jackson guy!"

Vergil laughed, something that he didn't normally do. Now that Tailor had brought it up, he _hadn't_ seen Dante since his foolish ploy. He scanned the landscape for Dante, and his eyes rested upon a large rock. Dante was leaning against it, and was deep in conversation with the red-haired Guardian.

"So," Dante said "How've you been? Haven't seen you since you hired me."

Lucia nodded, smiling. It had been a long while.

"How's Granny?" Dante enquired suddenly "Still keeping well?"

Lucia's expression suddenly hardened. Dante felt that he had said something wrong.

"Dead," she said, just as Dante opened his mouth to apologise "Killed in an attack a few months back."

"Oh…" Dante mumbled, wishing dearly that he had not asked.

His expression brightened when he finally came up with a suitable statement.

"By the way," he stated "I never got my payment for killing that guy!"

Lucia smirked and merely waved it off.

"Forget it. I ended up killing Arius."

"Oho!" Dante exclaimed, in mock anger "What about all of those other demons I killed?! They should end up on the bill!"

Lucia opened her mouth to remark, but Dante continued.

"_And_ Argosax! And that guy that I think was the sun god!"

Lucia was saved the liberty of having to answer to this by a large amount of yelling. Several fighters were screaming and pointing at an incoming carriage, moving by itself.

Lucia drew her swords and Dante took Ebony and Ivory out of their holsters.

A few feet away, Vergil gripped Yamato and Tailor aimed his shotgun at the carriage.

The Guardians and the twins could all sense that something powerful was in it. Something that they could not possibly fight at the moment, after the weakening they suffered from the immense amount of demons.

The human military saw the carriage, but could not tell whether it meant good news or bad. They were too preoccupied by the remainder of demons, which were showing no signs of giving up.

The carriage stopped a few paces away from the battle, and anybody that was close to it backed away nervously.

The door opened, but nobody could see anybody that opened it.

Finally, a figure stepped out onto the ground and peered around, and some others decided to join him. The first figure pointed at the carriage, and it disappeared into a wisp of smoke.

Nobody spoke, the only sounds coming from the fight still at hand.

Vergil's face was filled with awe rather than fear. He could tell that every single one of these newcomers were every bit as powerful as the strongest being he had ever seen. Some were a little behind that amount, but one or two exceeded it by an extreme amount. Mundus being the one that Vergil thought the most powerful.

The first figure gave him a strange feeling. Something that he could not put his finger on. Also, there was something about his aura that was familiar. His hair was platinum, like his and Dante's. His eyes were strange as well, but not as strange. They had the white, the pupil, but no iris. It merely looked like a white circle with a dark smudge in the centre. His skin was pale, not as pale as Vlad's, but almost the exact same as Vergil's. (Dante got too much sun to get pale)

He whispered something to the others, but Vergil was too far away to hear what he was saying.

"It does not seem promising. What do you say we should do next?"

His voice was deep, and was clear, even though he spoke at almost a whisper.

The one who answered had dark hair, and his expression was completely blank. When he answered, his voice sounded excited, but his face remained the same, indifferent.

"Well, I don't know about the others…" the second one spoke, taking a breath to think of what to say next, like a newcomer to English "But…it's been a long while since I had any action…why not kill a little amount of humans?"

There were some murmurs of agreement from the crowd, many of the faces looking excited.

Unfortunately, none but that group heard what they were saying. Though their minds were still focused on the newcomers, the battle was still on, so they still had to fight.

Crìnge and the others slipped into the large crowd of the battle, and joined in on the killing, slaying without mercy.

Dante punched a demon in the stomach, though his hand slightly hurt afterwards because of their armour. A half-demon's punch can break a thin layer of metal, but will still feel a little pain. While the demon bent over, Dante brought Rebellion down onto the back of it's head, slaying it.

He turned over to check on the others.

Tailor was in high spirits, blowing multiple demons away with his shotgun, not giving any quarter to those that crossed his path. Or his shotgun's.

Vergil effortlessly shot demons in the holes in their armour where their joints where, his gun set to semi-auto. He had just finished on his fourth demon (He shot it's knee caps, then finished it with Yamato) when he saw something ahead of him. The platinum haired figure was killing military soldiers and Guardians with some rather lazy swings of his arm where a long, thick and black-coloured sword was held.

Those who were caught in the path of the blade were knocked flying into the air inexplicably, as if the sword had some sort of power imbued in it. Vergil only noticed then that the figures flying through the air were aflame, like miniature comets zooming through the air.

The figure turned to face him, as if he knew that Vergil was looking at him. He raised his sword into the air.

Vergil closed his eyes, not knowing whether or not the sword was powerful enough to kill him with one fell swipe.

It never came. Vergil looked at the figure. He seemed to have thought better of killing Vergil, and put his sword into a hilt that was hidden under his black hooded robe.

"You're not going to attack me?" Vergil suddenly asked, barely managing to keep a façade of coolness and calmness.

The figure's voice was cold and harsh, yet he was smiling. Vergil had been around powerful beings enough to know the way they showed their feelings. Barely ever. Vergil could tell that the figure was merely trying to stay impressive. To anybody else he would have. Vergil had kept his voice in that same way for too long to be fooled by it's purposes.

"Not today," the figure said "You can live for another while, at least."

And with that he turned away, his sword remaining in it's hilt.

Just then, a roaring Guardian came into sight and brought his sword down onto the figure.

But, right before it made contact with the figure's head, it froze. The figure did not even seem to be concentrating, as if this was as easy as breathing. The Guardian was thrown into the air and quite a distance away.

Vergil, casting all honour to the wind, charged at the figure and attempted to stab him with Yamato. Yamato was normally resistant to this kind of power.

But, to Vergil's shock and horror, his katana halted in midair just before the figure. The figure turned around, and Vergil discovered that a third eye had appeared above his colourless ones. In fact, Vergil realised that it wasn't even an eye, it was pupil-less, and was completely red. There was also one more distinguishing feature about it , that was only recognisable because Vergil had seen the same kind in ancient sketches in scrolls.

It was diamond shaped.

Before the figure could say anything, Vergil found himself speak first. He didn't feel the immediate need to continue on in Sparda's diary at the moment, as he had found an answer that he was looking for.

"You're-" Vergil blurted staring into the figure's face.

The figure smiled again, showing a perfect set of teeth, with only slightly fanged teeth where his canines should have been.

"You have discovered-I think-the reason why I am deciding not to kill you?" the figure stated.

Vergil nodded, then said:

"You're Sparda's twin?"

The figure nodded, then turned and walked away from the battle calling out:

"It is time! We have wasted enough time here!" and then the diamond shaped eye flashed red, and a carriage appeared from thin air.

The rest of the head demon joined him, some looking disgruntled, others looking mildly excited; they must on their way to doing something else.

"Wait!" Vergil called out, waving his arms.

Some others stared at him with raised eyebrows, while others looked at him reproachfully.

The figure paused for a while, sighed, then turned to face the son of Sparda.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding tired "I have a busy schedule, hurry."

Vergil noticed that the fighters were not still. Bullets were stopping in midair all around them, throwing daggers and suchlike joining them. The figure must be preventing them all from reaching their mark.

"Why?-" Vergil started, not noticing how this must look. He was also unaware that if he looked back on this moment, he would have been ashamed. He was showing his enemy weakness. Not only that, but he was showing his own fighters weakness, something no commander should do.

"If you are wondering why I am the way I am," the figure stated "I have no time for that story. You may find out a different time."

The invisible bubble of protection went away, bullets coming through.

Crìnge counted the number before him as they clambered into the carriage. When the last had gone in, he realised that they were missing one. His eyes rolled automatically to heaven when he realised who it was.

"Where is Pontius?!" he demanded to the others of the order.

* * *

Joel stumbled as he walked, unable to suppress the tears erupting from his eyes, which were flowing freely down his face, giving a strange tickling feeling as they went. He ignored it as his mind raced.

_His father had been killed by a son of Sparda_.

He tried in vain to shake these thoughts out of his mind as he leaned onto a large rock, barely able to support his own weight at the moment.

The sun spread onto his face, warming his face and lighting it up with it's energy, the exact antithesis of what he felt inside.

Cold. Dead. Dark.

He wiped his face with his sleeve as he tried to stop crying. He was almost a Guardian, for the love of God! He felt sick with himself as he sniffled. He was just gone an adult! And look at the state of him!

He thought of the situation. He was the only survivor of his family, every one of them murdered by demon kind, half or full.

He watched the battle rage on from a safe distance, his eyes red. What to do with the sons of Sparda…

For he knew that he couldn't live with himself if he didn't seek revenge. He had never thought it possible. Every time a son of Sparda was mentioned, it was with a warm heart. Like they were saviours. Ha!

What were they possibly up to?

Did they have some sort of secret that Andrè, his father, had discovered? Did they not want it out? Possibly, but maybe not.

Were they actually with the evil ones, and taking down the Guardians and humans one by one from behind enemy lines?

That seemed possible. Joel couldn't think of any other feasible reason. His eyes watered again, but not with sorrow.

He would kill them both, one way or another.

They were obviously in it together, the way they seemed so close. From what Joel had heard of the legend, they were nothing like their father.

He could see a lone figure battling all those surrounding him with apparent ease. Joel approached a little closer, to get a good view of the figure.

He was wielding the most peculiar weapon that Joel had ever seen. The closest thing that it was like was a kind of whip. For, there was a steel handle, made of a scarlet material, but at the end of the handle it separated.

Joel was still coming ever closer to the figure with interest.

At the end of the handle it broke into many pieces, like many whips attached to a single handle. That was as far as the similarities went. All along the side of the whips were miniscule blades, like tiny tips of knives that were cut off the rest of the blade and put on the weapon. At the very end of a whip was a single longer scarlet knife that had a black mist surrounding it. Every single one of the whips protruding from the handle were like this.

The figure was also peculiar, his face pale and his expression nonexistent. He had a perfectly normal face, all right, but his lack of expression made him look soulless, like he had no feelings. His eyes were a dark shade of orange, and they vanquished all theories of him being soulless. They showed any expression that he was feeling, that his face was failing to show.

With a single spinning jump, he dispatched all of the humans surrounding him.

Joel realised that he was too close; if the figure turned around, he would see Joel clearly. But, a strange sensation went through Joel's body, as if the figure already knew that he was there.

"Yes?" the figure stated, not bothering to turn and face Joel, merely wiping the blood off of his weapon.

Joel felt his throat dry up, rendering him speechless as he tried to think of something to say.

"You are troubled, young one," the figure said, turning to face him, his eyes showing cheerfulness.

Joel managed to speak out.

"You can tell? Before I said anything? Even before you saw me?" he blurted out.

The figure's eyes seemed to delve deep into Joel.

"I could sense your aura," the figure explained "You are troubled, traumatised, even."

Joel found himself once again unable to speak.

"Do not worry," the figure continued "All wounds heal with time, especially with a half-demon such as yourself."

"I saw something that changed a lot of things," Joel replied weakly.

It was a good reply, leaving the person spoken to guessing. It didn't give enough answers to tell the person what you wanted hidden, but qualified as a reply, inviting the person to continue the conversation.

"Such as?" the figure said, punching a hole through Joel's evasive answer.

Joel was about to give another uninformative answer, but felt that he trusted this figure. There was something about him that Joel liked.

He launched into his story, knowing that he shouldn't be saying anything. But, he needed to say it to somebody to relieve a small portion of the pain, to even speak it aloud would be help. A problem shared is a problem halved.

Joel blurted out about his mother's death, how similarly it was to his recent loss of his father, how he saw Vergil with his weapon out behind his fathers unmoving body.

By the end of it, the figure had his eyes closed, shutting out all hope of interpreting his reaction to the tale.

"…I see," he stated after a small while.

He opened his eyes, and Joel found to his astonishment that they were filled with interest, with what appeared to be a tinge of care. Joel felt his heart slightly lift. He felt so much better now that he had voiced his problems.

"So," the figure suddenly said "You want to destroy the sons of Sparda?"

Joel nodded, feeling foolish with his reply. But the figure showed no signs of humour.

"That will not be easy, almost impossible for one such as yourself," the figure stated. Just before Joel could say anything "But, with the right training, a most accomplishable task."

Joel's eyes brightened showing excitement. The figure stuck out his hand.

"Pontius."

Joel accepted it and shook it.

"Joel."

Pontius turned suddenly to the side, looking disgruntled. Joel noticed a carriage by the side, fired munitions merely bouncing off it.

"I have to go now," Pontius said.

Then, turning swiftly back to face Joel, his voice hardened as he spoke.

"Do you wish to come with me?"

Joel nodded dumbly.

"And, do you make a promise to follow my orders, as a mentor?"

Joel nodded once again.

"Good," Pontius said, then offering his hand to Joel again. Joel noticed Pontius' orange eyes flash for about a second. "This will be your contract," Pontius continued.

Joel raised an eyebrow. A handshake? It seemed ridiculous.

He accepted Pontius' hand a second time, but this time there was a difference.

Where the two hands were clasped, dark symbols which Joel could not comprehend emitted. They were all black and shining, and Joel could feel a strange sensation going through his body.

"It is done," said Pontius. And, sure enough, the dark shapes were no longer coming out of the hands. Pontius let go. "Now, unless I give my expressed permission, you will not break your promise."

Joel felt a shiver of fear spread throughout his body, and he gulped.

"What happens if I do?"

Pontius' eyes flashed dangerously.

"You will die."

And with that, Pontius turned towards the carriage, then signalled for Joel to follow.

"Coming?"

Joel could feel himself grin.

"Of course……………master."

* * *

_Joe: BUM BUM BUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMM!!_

_Waddya think? Yes, it was long, and most likely boring. I was disappointed by it, there was something wrong with it that I can't put my finger on. shrugs Meh, probably wasn't important._

_Once again, I apologise for not replying to any reviews. But, I assure you, they were all brilliant, and had good points._

_Well, tell me what you think about the chapter, here's your chance. _

_Well, that's about it, so, until next time,_

_Ciao._


	11. Return to New York

_Disclaimer:- If you recognise anything in this story (Apart from my OCs) I don't own it._

_Joe: Back again! This chapter won't be as heavy as the past few, as the battle's over and I'm not sure when the next one is coming. Just stay patient, and it'll come._

_Oh, and thanks again for the reviews, keep it up with them._

_And, some heresy will be making another appearance. Anti-religion is fun! I just take up some facts, screw them up a bit, then say '_that's how that happened_'._

_Try it. _

_Should I keep my chapters as long as they currently are? Do you prefer a long wait, then a long read? Or, wait a shorter time for a shorter chapter? Please, tell me._

_Well, here we go._

* * *

The atmosphere in _Vie De Barley_ was buzzing and noisy.

Almost all of the room in the bar was covered by military, navy, US SEALS and Guardians, holding an alcoholic beverage and drinking deeply, like there would be no tomorrow. Outside, the moon was in the sky again as shone brightly through the windows in the bar, showing all that were capable of sustaining consciousness that it was nearing full-moon.

Near the bar, a figure clad in red rose a half empty large double-pint glass, that had originally been novelty but brought to use for Dante.

"A toast!" he exclaimed loudly, for the buzz that was normally associated with being tipsy was ringing in his ears "To the fighters that'll win this damn war!"

A loud cheer greeted these words, then the tinkling of glass upon glass (And the occasional smash of those that went too hard) filled the room, then everybody drained their glasses.

Vergil turned to Tailor, who was still draining his glass, as he had just ordered a new one when Dante called for a toast. Vergil himself was only grudgingly taking the beer, and in small amounts. He remembered all too well what happened if you dared to take it all in one gulp. He watched Tailor go slightly green when he slammed his empty glass on the bar.

"So," Vergil stated, a little louder than usual due to the ceaseless chatter in the room "That was some fight."

"Yeah," Tailor agreed, shaking his head up and down "That it was…pity I never saw the full thing! _Hic_"

"Hmm," Vergil mumbled in response "You wouldn't have wanted to. I had never seen the likes of those demons before…"

Tailor hiccupped again, then answered.

"Yeah, those things creep me out _hic,_" he shuddered "And, I wonder, how did they see without any eyes? _Hic_"

Vergil thought for a second, deep in thought.

"Well, what exactly are eyes?" he started "They are sensors that detect light energy. Ears are sensors that detect kinetic energy in the air, so they could just as easily be called 'eyes'"

Tailor thought about this; he had not yet drank enough to kill all thought from his head.

"S'pose."

Vergil continued, glad that Tailor knew what he was talking about.

"Well, demons have organs that humans do not, so I'm guessing that they have sensors that detect other forms of energy…" he stated "…perhaps heat? Maybe they are infra-red? Or, nuclear? The energy of the atom? That would give them a clear idea of everything around them. I suppose, if a human had that kind of sensor, he would be driven mad by the detail of everything around them…"

"Yes, well, _hic_" Tailor butted in, finally had had enough of this complicated talk "Their staffs were kinda creep as well…"

Vergil's eyes brightened; he had just remembered something.

"Speaking of swords…"

He smiled and motioned for Dante to come closer. Dante strode forward, looking curious.

"Take it out," Vergil demanded.

Tailor raised an eyebrow, having no clue as to what Vergil was on about. Dante took a while as he reached into the inside of his coat, searching for the item Vergil was talking about.

"Remember, Tailor," Vergil started his explanation "When you gave me a firearm? Though I was willing just to use a sword?"

Tailor grunted in response, the queasiness in his stomach slowly fading, although his mind was still dulled from the alcohol.

Dante managed to pull out a curved blade, it's pattern like those of the waves.

"The Impaler!" he stated happily "T'was Vlad's!"

Vergil took it off him and placed it before Tailor.

"It's yours now," Vergil said "-don't look at me like that!" he added, as Tailor gave him a strange look "You couldn't ask for a better one."

Tailor gave the sword a hearty glare, but feeling that Vergil, like he, was stubborn and wouldn't give up.

With a heavy sigh, he took the blade and inspected it.

"Wait a sec," he said "Can I shoot lightning with this thing?"

Vergil shook his head to a disappointed Tailor.

"No. You'd have to be a half-demon or higher."

Tailor looked at The Impaler for a little longer, then placed it on the inside of his coat grudgingly.

Dante stepped aside and walked outside to the back, feeling the need for fresh air.

The cold air hit his face and cleared his mind a little. He looked at the moon, which was behind a cloud. He knew this place well. There was a water barrel somewhere around here. Finding it behind a keg of some ready made beer, Dante dunked his head in.

Shaking his head profusely to get most of the water off, Dante felt his mind almost fully clear.

He thought about what would happen next as he looked around and rested against the stone wall around the back of the pub that acted as a small courtyard.

The mission had been accomplished. The Guardians of Vie De Marli had been located, and they had joined the ranks of the humans. The battle had been more of a side-mission that they had found along the way. It wasn't necessarily crucial to the mission.

Well, what would happen next would most likely be a transport home. By which means Dante didn't know, as the sea had proven to be just as dangerous as the air during these times.

Veering off the subject completely, Dante remembered that he had _still_ not received his pay from Lucia. Maybe he could clear it all away by buying a few rounds back inside.

Grinning, Dante strode back into the warmth of _Vie De Barley_.

* * *

_Cairo, Egypt: 02: 38_

A guard strode down a few feet of cold sand, feeling miserable and groggy. He was supposed to have slept during the day for this job, or at least dumped a load of caffeine filled stuff down his gullet.

He yawned audibly inspecting the breathtaking view that had long grown old to him.

The giant figure of a pyramid loomed before him, it's majesty wasted upon tired eyes such as his.

The guard was wearing a black uniform, used to attract whatever heat there was in the dark of the night. One would be crazy to wear black during the day over here. Days were relentlessly hot, yet the nights were terribly cold. It was as if Mother Nature was using a well known torture method.

Upon his black uniform was a crest, his countries flag with a shield in the middle. He had been hired recently, less than a week ago by the Government to keep guard over these lands. He knew that all over the country, maybe even the world, there were guards watching over the stillness of the night like he was.

All because of those stupid albino bastards.

That was his name for them. A more educated person would have told him that to be albino pink eyes were an important feature, and white hair, not platinum was usually the hair colour.

But, this man didn't care. All he knew was that he had to work the late-shift to watch over absolutely nothing in particular for _'demons'_.

What a load of bullshit.

He didn't believe in demons. He was a man of modern times, and wasn't very religious. As far as he knew, these so called 'demons' were a bunch of drugged up cult members that wore long robes and masks and carried huge freaking scythes. Well, from what he had seen of them. All he had seen was some footage on the news with figures wearing black robes, what were obviously skeleton masks and managed to swing large scythes that most people were incapable of even holding, let alone using.

Just because everybody believed those stupid twins. Hah! Half-demon! Just because they had white hair despite their youth…

A sudden movement made him look away from the pyramid.

"_Who's there_!" he called out in his own tongue.

(Note: I don't know how to speak in their language, so anything in another language will be in italics)

There was no reply.

"_Show yourself!_" he demanded.

Stupid teens. Or tourists. He didn't know which. Teens from the area liked to vandalise or graphitise ancient property. He didn't know, maybe it made them feel big.

Tourists that were up at this time of night were normally half-crazy. They might want to crack off a piece of the pyramid and make off with it. The museum was locked and had it's own security, so that ruled out any chances of them stealing any priceless artefacts.

Another sound behind him made him turn.

His heart beat against his ribcage.

"_If you don't show yourself now, you're facing a night in a cell!"_ he threatened, hoping that this would make them come.

He looked around for help. No-one. The other guard was a good distance away, well out of his eye span three times over. He turned on his walkie-talkie. Nothing but static. Wherever the guard was, he either had his walkie-talkie switched off or had dozed off. Or maybe he hadn't showed up.

He heard a swish of something, but before he could register what it was, something incredibly sharp had impaled him, then he was lifted into the air by great strength.

He watched in horror as his own blood flowed from the wound into midair and staying there, suddenly showing an item before him. The blood, made quite black in the night, flowed onto an invisible item that looked like a blade of sorts.

He coughed up blood. The blood flew through the air, but stopped just before him in the air, showing that something else was there.

He died before he found out what had attacked him.

Grunting, the invisible figure threw the human off of it's blade, knocking his limp form into the side of the pyramid that was close to them.

Suddenly, it's form materialised out of thin air.

A soldier of sin had proved it's effectiveness in stealth-missions. It wiped the blood off it's mask and cleaned it's staff.

It waited a small while, waiting for the others to finish their job. He was sure that a comrade had successfully slaughtered the guard nearest to the one it had just killed.

Finally, after a small while, it let out a bloodcurdling roar. It was answered by several roars in from the distance.

Good. It was done.

It opened it's clawed hands. A green energy of sorts emitted from the palm of it's hand, a special kind of communiqué activating. Immediately after the defeat at the Battle of the Divine, the great masters of evil had decided that the soldiers of sin needed to be a bit more powerful. They were now gifted with speech, though only in Lìstook, the ancient language of the demons. They all now had a greater intelligence, and a select few could communicate with their masters, mainly those in charge of operations. Including this one.

It's hand glowed green and it pressed it up to the side of it's head, where two holes for ears were cut into it's helmet/mask.

"_It is done._" the soldier spoke, being the first of it's kind. It's voice was extremely deep, like a bear's would have been if it could talk _"Time to move in?"_

A voice that was only loud enough for it to hear answered.

"_Very Satisfactory. Yes, we will move in now. The human's time has come._"

Pontius was much more capable of speaking when using Lìstook. He had spoken it since long before Sparda sealed away the demons. He never was good at human languages. The best one he could speak was English, and he wasn't even skilled at that either.

"_Keep watch over the place. Crìnge will decide what to do next. When we arrive, we will prepare the pyramid for the next stage._"

The soldier's hand stopped glowing green and the link was cut. It would inform the others soon. It looked up at the giant edifice before it, the biggest pyramid of the lot.

The Great Pyramid they called it, the tomb of Khufu.

Well, soon enough it would be known by a different name.

* * *

Vergil, Dante and Tailor were onboard a newly made _HellBane_ copter, a great jet black fighter helicopter capable of flying at high speed for long distances, and is equipped with top-of-the-range weaponry. It had 44 mm machine guns, a kind of machine gun that could only be equipped by a helicopter or aircraft, as it was much too large and heavy for a soldier to even drag along, let alone carry. Possibly with a half-demon. Along with the guns came a missile system, called a _Blast _Hawk launcher, another new weapon. They could be fired at either a locked-on target or by simple aiming, depending on the transport. The _HellBane_ was capable of both. It's armour was impenetrable to most weapons, excluding missiles and bombs. The glass was triple-planed and bullet proof, make it almost impossible to take out it's pilot or passengers.

The _HellBane_ series of fighter copters were part of the latest flow of new weaponry and transport that had become associated with the war.

The plan was that Dante and Vergil would be returned to New York, as they had finished their mission. Tailor had decided to come with, as he knew that if he didn't, the boardroom and sleepless nights full of planning with the other high ranking officials would await.

Vergil had fallen asleep on the seat, with the knowing comfort that he was perfectly safe in here. He had not slept in weeks, had he been fully human, he would have collapsed twice over with exhaustion.

Dante was sitting with a leg up, twirling Ebony on his finger. He looked quite uncomfortable, and tended to changing his position on the chair.

"What's with this?" he asked grumpily, as Tailor smirked at him when he shifted for the umpteenth time "I thought this was latest technology!"

Tailor stopped leaning against the window and sat down on the seat beside Dante.

"It's built for speed and power, not comfort," Tailor replied, looking immediately quite grumpy himself as he was sitting on it "The only comfortable seats in the entire copter are either the pilot's -" he pointed to the front "Or the that leathery couch that Vergil's lying on-" he pointed to a peacefully slumbering Vergil.

"Either way -" he continued with a grin "If you decide to take one, you're dead!"

Dante stood up, after finally having enough.

"How so?" he asked impatiently.

"Because," Tailor continued, his grin spreading "If you take the pilot's, you'll probably make us all crash, and if you knock Vergil off his seat -"

He was taken the liberty of finishing his sentence by Vergil, who was strangling some invisible person in his sleep.

"-he doesn't look like he would like to be disturbed" Tailor stated, as Vergil stopped, apparently pleased with himself, then returning to snuggle into the leathery comfort.

Dante sighed and resumed his seat and sat down straight, then took out his handguns and twirled them with his fingers, tossing them spinning into the air, then catching them again with his fingers, still twirling them with the same bored expression.

"Lemme see them," Tailor asked, clicking his fingers at Dante's hands for emphasis.

Dante passed them lazily, then they were caught by Tailor, who inspected them, a twinkle could be seen in his eye.

"These are Colts…" Tailor stated, looking at the perfectly polished guns "..model 1911?"

Dante nodded, then grunted.

".45s"

Tailor smiled, as if he was handling his first born son, then examined them in greater detail.

"Thought so. You've got these perfectly modified, did you do these by yourself or…?"

"Tony Redgrave," Dante answered "Old friend."

"Mhm…" Tailor continued "That's why you have his name engraved? He died?"

Dante nodded, not planning on going into detail.

"And these have names…" Tailor muttered "..naturally, I suppose, I have a tendency to do that myself with my favourites…"

And after a few more moments of examining the weapons, Tailor handed them back.

"They're perfectly. You're extremely lucky. We use the Colt 1911 in the army, but they're nothing like these. Keep them safe."

Dante grunted, then holstered them, looking at Vergil, evidently planning some way to knock Vergil off the chair and making it look like an accident. Then, Vergil started groaning.

* * *

_Vergil suddenly found himself in a clearing of a forest for no visible reason. The sky was red, and it was cold; his breath turned to a misty fog before him._

_A shining object appeared nearby. Vergil could not determine what it was, but he knew that if he retrieved it, all of his problems would go away. This was his goal, his life ambition, this was power._

_He approached it, attempting to savour the moment. But, when he reached out to it with his hand outstretched, it moved forward, down the path leading into the forest._

_Vergil could tell that it was a test, he needed to prove that he was worthy for it. He set off at a jog, then into a full out sprint towards the shining object, which had speeded up and was now in the cover of the trees._

_Then, a hazy figure ran up from behind him and overtook him, going at a much faster pace than Vergil was going._

_The branches of the tress were moving, cutting at him, trying to prevent Vergil from reaching his goal. Vergil bared his teeth and reached for Yamato, but it wasn't there. If he didn't speed up, the figure would reach the power before he did._

_Increasing his speed to that which only an inhuman being could achieve, Vergil pounded his feet into the ground, everything around him becoming a blur._

_He was right behind the figure now, he could beat him to it._

_But it was not to be. To his dismay, Vergil found that the figure sped up, almost to twice the speed he himself was going at._

_Up ahead, the shining substance halted, just at the very edge of the forest._

_The figure up ahead stopped, then reached out and grabbed the substance._

_Vergil tripped over a tree root, then his face became covered in dirt._

_He looked up to the figure, trying to see what it looked like. Then, the figure became less hazy as it turned to look at Vergil._

_Vergil's jaw dropped, and he felt his blood heat up with anger._

_Dante was smirking down at him, waving the shining substance in his face._

Vergil jerked his head upright, coming into consciousness. He was lying down on a leathery couch on the _HellBane_ copter. He only realised when he saw the worried looks on Tailor and Dante's face that he was sweating.

"Are you alright?" Tailor asked urgently, evidently worried "You look terrible"

Vergil rose slowly, groaning.

"Just a nightmare…" he murmured in response "I'm fine…"

Dante took this as a chance to plonk himself onto the leather couch, as Vergil was no longer covering the entirety of it.

"Get **_off_**!" Vergil bellowed, pushing him roughly off of the seat "It's - **_mine_**!".

Dante zoomed back onto his own seat, cowed by Vergil's sudden burst of anger. He had no idea what was wrong.

Vergil hissed, but to himself. It was extremely unlike him to act like this. He was cool, calm and collected… …and he wouldn't let a stupid dream get to him, would he?

Tailor was giving him a curious look, one of his eyebrows raised. Dante looked at Vergil likewise, but stranger. He knew Vergil well enough that something serious must be wrong.

To both of their surprise, Tailor chuckled.

"Brothers…" he muttered.

Dante attempted a chuckle too, but it didn't sound like his own.

"Sorry," Vergil stated, making a feeble attempt to make up "I'm-I'm just tired…"

Dante nodded, becoming relaxed again.

"By the way," Tailor said, steering away from the current subject (or lack thereof) "What's the story of you two? How did you become half-demon? Experiment, or genes?"

"Well," Vergil explained "Our father was demon. I won't tell you the full story about that, you'll hear plenty of it later."

"We were raised by our mother," Dante stated, joining in "up till we were about ten…then……"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Yes?" Tailor said, unaware of the dark looks the twins were exchanging.

"We were ambushed at home," Vergil said, telling the story of the worst moments of his life.

"It was horrible-" Dante stated "There were demons everywhere, we couldn't do anything."

"Mother was killed," Vergil said "We were very young, she told us to hide."

"Then-" Dante said "I was taken to an orphanage later."

"Just you?" Tailor butted in.

"Just me - I think," Dante said, then he turned to look at Vergil "I thought you were dead."

"As did I you." Vergil stated.

"What happened to you?" Tailor asked Vergil.

"I'd like to know that myself," Dante added.

"I would rather not discuss that now," Vergil said.

"Right," Dante said, deciding to continue "Anyway, years later, when I moved out of the orphanage, we met again."

"-I would _not_ like to talk about that either," Vergil interrupted.

"Right, whatever," Dante said "Anyway, around -was it a year?- later, I opened a shop. Before I even decided on the name…you go on," he added, signalling for Vergil to continue.

"Years ago," Vergil stated "Before the slavery of mankind, the two worlds were very barely connected, only a select few means were even remotely possible, and not everybody could use those means. At that time, humans were mainly unintelligent. Nothing like today. They had a few religions which they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to, and nothing else mattered. The demons decided to, as we say, possess them a few of them, mainly the head priests or druids, whom the others treated like kings, and followed their orders blindly.

"So, they took no precautions before setting to build a tower, following precise orders and measurements, and with precise materials that were scarcely found in those times. If they actually tried, they would have noticed the strange behaviour of the druids. They had no idea of the towers purpose, which was to bring the two worlds together. Then, when it was finished, a chief priest would initiate a ritual to unite the two worlds -and bring humankind into slavery."

"What's all this got to do with you two?" Tailor asked bluntly.

"I'm getting to that," Vergil answered "Anyway, a high ranking demon named Sparda felt pity for the humans -how, I don't know, as he was originally one of the main demons in charge. So, he rebelled against his own kind and waged a war with those he once considered friends and comrades. He went through the tower, vanquishing all the defences and finally, casting his own spell to seal the two worlds - with a few necessary ingredients.

"An amulet, the blood of a priestess, and his own devil's blood. He managed to seal off the two worlds and the demon power contained in the human. But, as powerful as he was, no single being - no matter how strong - could destroy a spell as powerful. The two worlds were separated, but not entirely. Demons could still find their way through, if a higher demon put enough effort into making them. Sparda sealed away most of his power, keeping just enough for himself to stay in the human realm. The Teme-Ni-Gru was banished to deep, deep underground, near the earths core. His legendary blade became weakened by a hundredfold, becoming a mere broadsword with a pretty European style to it, with only a fraction of it's original magical properties contained. Sparda became something like ourselves - human form, platinum haired, and immortal. We are not sure when he died, but he remained alive long enough to marry a human woman around 40 to 30 years ago and sire a pair of twins - us."

"Right…" Tailor said "…wait a sec, does that mean you two are royalty?"

"No-wha?" Dante stated. He exchanged looks with Vergil "I…dunno…" he muttered weakly "Demonic royalty maybe, but-"

"Not anymore," Vergil said "The demons would not stand ones like us to be princes, they would have disowned the Sparda bloodline by now.

Anyway, I was being trained in the _iaido_ style of swordsmanship, I won't tell you where - and came across the legend of Teme-Ni-Gru, the devil's tower. By then, my life's ambition was to attain as much power as possible, and the thought of receiving Sparda's power thrilled me. With the help of a scholar by the name of Arkham, I managed to erect it."

"Arkham?" Tailor sniggered "That's a funny name. Sounds like a name Noah would have named the first piglet born on the ark!"

Dante sniggered, getting the joke of 'Ark-ham'. Vergil's look stung them both into silence.

"Arkham was a human devoted to becoming a devil. He even had sacrificed his own wife in a failing ritual. It backfired, leaving only a vague demonic imprint on his mind - hence the terrible mark on the side of his face. Also, the demonic part gave him great speed - almost like a teleport. The demonic part often drove him mad - you remember his stupid disguise?"

Dante's face screwed up to one of pure hatred.

"That stupid Jester outfit?" he hissed through bared teeth "Stupid bastard, if he didn't move so fast I could've-" Dante started strangling midair.

"Anyway," Vergil butted in, so that Tailor never heard exactly what Dante could have done to Arkham "I brought the Teme-Ni-Gru back up, and was about to strengthen the link between the two worlds back to it's old way. But, Dante stopped me."

Dante smirked, as his hands found their way back from midair. His face was that of extreme pride. Tailor was sure that Dante would be wearing that face when he managed to ruin Vergil's day, in some shape or form, no matter how.

"At first, he was barely a match for me." Vergil said "He was unaware of his true power inside. Next time, he knew full well how to use it to it's fullest, and the fight ended in a draw. Arkham continued the plan by himself, and planned to gain Sparda's sword by himself - don't ask me _how_ Sparda managed to get Force Edge there, but he did.

"I was far away from Dante's location, as I fell down a crevice. I assume that Dante traversed once again up the tower, which was now a much different form. Arkham succeeded in his ploy, however briefly; he initiated the ritual and brought the link between the two worlds to it's fullest. One could simply enter the demon world by going through the rift in the sky. Arkham found Force Edge and thought that he could use it's power. He was half-right. When he completed the ritual he gained power - enough to be able to use whatever properties Force Edge had. He got Sparda's image and form, but could not do anything in the extraordinary.

"There were two defects. Two vital necessities that Arkham had forgotten when he went into the demon world. Sparda's sword could only be used by one with demonic properties - which Arkham received. But, he had forgotten that Sparda's sword had a kind of supernatural lock on it. Any being with evil in it's heart could not gain Sparda's true power."

"So," Dante interrupted "That means that you wouldn't have been able to use it either."

Vergil blinked delicately and rose his nose into the air.

"I was never evil," he demanded "I merely searched for ultimate power, after the incident with Mother."

"Oh…" Dante said, sounding immediately apologetic for his accusation "..Sorry, Verge, I didn't -"

"It's quite alright," Vergil said, sounding very much like a king that was forgiving an unruly slave "Anyway, I am confused. The second necessity was the two amulets. The amulets were originally part of the sword itself. During his rebellion against his kind, a mortal chief priest his sword with the power to be active in the human world. When he sealed the two worlds off, Sparda apparently imbued this power into the two amulets, which he gave to his wife almost two millennia. So, I do not know why Arkham originally couldn't use Force Edge. Before he got Sparda's power, he was never necessarily evil - just interested in the dark arts. It was only after getting Sparda's power is when I think he thought of a great plan of some kind or other, that must have made him evil"

"Power can corrupt anyone" Tailor stated sagely.

"_I_ think I know why," Dante said, a glint in his eye, supposedly because he knew something Vergil didn't; a rare opportunity on his part "Arkham didn't the blood of Sparda in his veins. That was obviously a third precaution on the blade. When I got you good on Mallet Island - I'll explain later -" he added, as Tailor raised his eyebrows "I got your part of the amulet, and Force Edge came into it's true form, supposedly because Mundus was tinkering with the link at that time. The human world was close with the underworld."

"Then why is it still in form?" Vergil enquired.

Dante grinned sheepishly.

"I forgot to close the gate to the Underworld after me when the place was collapsing."

Vergil smacked his forehead, evidently ashamed of Dante. His expression changed when a thought occurred to him

"Wait a minute," he said "I had Force Edge for a while before the last battle, and we were in the underworld, why didn't it transform?"

"Because," Dante said, the smug grin still on his face, as he was explaining something to Vergil "I had the other part of the amulet."

Vergil's face darkened.

"You mean to say…if you had given me your amulet, I could have achieved my lifetime goal?"

Dante nodded, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"I don't know much about what happened next, so I'll skip-"

"_I_ do," Vergil stated "After Dante defeated me, I ended up in a place in the Underworld known as the Room of Fallen ones. It is not Hell, as is widely believed, but a place for those who have been defeated - not killed, while inside the Underworld. So, I found three red orbs in the air nearby when I regained consciousness."

Dante's mouth was open. He knew all too well what those orbs meant.

"Mundus, prince of Darkness," Vergil stated "I thought I could challenge him, like father did, and foolishly attempted after already being weakened by Dante.

"I did, of course, lose. Mundus managed to use whatever power he had with mine to leave that place. By the looks of it, he wiped my memory and affixed a mask to my face, to make sure I never realised my real form. He took Yamato and replaced it with a large _Zanbato_ blade. If we are to continue the tale in chronological order, Dante must tell you his version."

They both turned to Dante, who was not expecting to say anything. He cleared his throat.

"Well, not long after I got used to my business, and had developed a password system, I got a call - well, a bike through the front of my building, and a woman stating that she required my… _ahem,_ services.

"I accepted - mainly because she looked like mother. She told me that Mundus had resurrected and was planning to continue with his previous acts to try and rule the human world. He was located on Mallet Island, the place where he had managed to construct a portal to the human world - with his and Vergil's power, I now know.

"Anyway, I had to stop him………"

"Yes!" Tailor queried impatiently.

Dante's face was filled with sudden anger, which was mixed with the delight that he had discovered something.

"Trish never gave me the money!" he barked "I don't believe it! I got so caught up in the mission and events that I completely forgot about my pay!"

"Anyway…?" Vergil said, urging Dante to continue.

"Oh - right, yeah." Dante blurted "Anyway, I fought whatever Mundus could throw at me while I was there. Including the original Phantom, Griffon and a huge piece of shit called Nightmare. And -" Dante said "What I thought at the time to be a fallen angel called Nelo Angelo, was-"

"Me." Vergil stated.

"Right, anyway, I _thought_ it was Nelo Angelo because I has seen pictures of it before, and Vergil looked exactly like him. Mundus' plan, I'm sure. I managed to beat him three times, get his part of the amulet, get a fully formed Sparda, then defeat Mundus with it."

There was a small silence.

"Well…" Tailor said "That's a…very…abnormal story."

Dante didn't seem to want to say more. It seemed he had spoken enough on the subject for one day.

Tailor looked out the window suddenly.

"What the-"

Another copter was outside, but it wasn't like the _HellBane_ series, or any other US copter for that instance. It was black, similar to their one, but it had a red smudge of an organic substance on it, and an eye was at it's side. It was infested.

The _HellBane_ swerved, turning to face the incoming chopper, then it fired: a _Blast Hawk_ missile ejecting from it's launch system, then hitting the chopper on the side.

The Infested Chopper retaliated with a barrage of machine gun fire, barely leaving a mark on the state-of-the-art military attack copter. Then, a mist glowed around the chopper, as the Infestant devil-triggered.

"Shit," Dante muttered, looking stricken.

The _HellBane_ barrel rolled to the side as the chopper fired a round of shining bullets. Dents formed where the bullets manage to find their target.

Tailor and the twins went into the cockpit to see the pilot, who was sweating profusely and was muttering curse words fluently.

They all knew full well that the sky was dangerous during these times, but they never expected an attack. Their thoughts were focused elsewhere.

"Aim for the eye!" Dante hissed into the pilot's ear.

Vergil could see the technology on the board light on and off as the pilot flicked a few switches, On a green screen he could see a lock on go onto what was unmistakably the enemy chopper.

The _Blast Hawk_ missile fired and went on a beeline to the unprotected eye.

_BANG_!

The chopper seemed to shudder in the air for a moment, until the blades stopped spinning, sending it straight downwards.

* * *

Tailor squinted and put his hand to his forehead, gazing out at the view. Dante and Vergil soon joined him, walking up to him.

"Holy…" Dante began, but he didn't need to finish the sentence.

They had landed in New York, and had gotten off the copter. The Infested Chopper had gone down easily after receiving a _Blast Hawk_ missile to the eye.

This was not the New York the twins remembered.

Here and there were boarded up windows, with locked doors.

Where crowds and crowds of people once rushed to their business, the occasional one hailing a taxi, there was now the streets of a small town. Not many people were out now, around a quarter of the former amount. Those that were out still rushed, but they did it with a scared look in their eye. The speed had nothing to do with a busy schedule.

"Shit…" Dante finished, after what seemed to be a sizable pause.

Vergil only nodded in response, still taking in the view. Tailor's mouth was slightly agape. He hadn't been in New York many times before (And only for less than a day in those rare cases) but he new that things shouldn't be like this.

As well as the lack of some important things, there were a few additions for the worse.

An un-boarded window or two was completely shattered, with blood stains inside the building visible to those who looked in. Graphitised walls, although the old ones remained, the newer ones didn't sport the names of those who created them. Or who they were infatuated with. Instead, in block capitals in red were sayings such as '_THE END IS NEAR_' OR _'APOCALYPSE IS NOW_'.

Dante's eye immediately caught onto an outstandingly large one that boasted the words; _'666 THE END OF THE WORLD IS COMING EVER NEARER, AND THE DEMONS ARE ALREADY AMONG US_'.

Dante didn't know enough about demonology to match Vergil's standards, but being both a devil hunter and half one himself gave him a large understanding of it. Even the humans could tell that something bad would happen, and it was coming ever closer.

Another reason why there are no records of the time '_bèniocalì Carcianitùm'_ (Before Christ, in it's original and proper meaning. Check ch. 1) was that the priests and druids were all possessed or manipulated. During those times, they were the only literate ones. So, they were in no condition to record the happenings of the time. Sparda's brainwashing spell wasn't powerful enough to erase all of the human's memories. He only affected the priests and druids, to fill in what happened during the blank spaces of their memory, the time during their manipulation.

Prophets all over the world have been raving for years about the judgement at the end of time, and that it would be coming nearer. Some said that the time of Jesus was over, as he was Pisces. Christian priests nowadays call it ' the end days', when the entire world starts breaking down. Muggings, rapes, murders, global warming, desertification…all happening now. These were only minor breakdowns. The 'bible' foretold greater changes. Basically, the book filled with any prophets' words that were major was telling the world what could happen.

The seas boiling up…brimstone falling from the sky…the earth shattering…

In short, what would happen if the Underworld connected with the human world.

Which was exactly what they were trying to prevent now.

666...

That date was coming closer and closer. It meant that the plan that Vergil was talking about was going to take place on the sixth of July, this year. Less than a week or two away.

(**_AN: THE EVENTS IN THIS STORY ARE TAKING PLACE NOW, WHEN I'M WRITING IT. WHEN I WROTE THIS PART OF THE CHAPTER, IT WAS 26/5/'06. KEEP THAT IN MIND IF IT IS NOW A LATER DATE_**)

Dante looked across at Vergil, who was apparently deep in the same thoughts as he was.

"Okay?" he asked, grabbing Vergil's and Tailor's attention "To my place, right?"

Vergil nodded and Tailor agreed. Dante looked around.

"Don't mind if we walk, do you? I don't think I want to be in a taxi or bus right now."

Upon agreeing, they all set off.

Dante never really noticed the full extent of the change until now. You only really noticed the lack of people when you stopped bumping into people and saying 'Watch it!'.

Tailor's face showed disgust when they started walking through the slums.

"Your place is in here?" he asked repulsively "If you're a demon hunter, I thought you'd be getting loaded right now, but…"

He slightly cheered up when he saw the neon stating 'Devil May Cry'.

A few weeks after Trish's arrival, Dante argued with her that it sounded ten times better than 'Devil Never Cry'. He stated that 'Devil Never Cry' sounded like the name of a psychotic type of lullaby. He only changed it on the spur of the moment that he had gained a partner.

He kicked the door open and opened his mouth also, as if daring to say 'Honey, I'm home!'. Instead, he remained silent for a second. For a split second, Tailor could see an expression of huge shock on Dante's face. What _did_ come out of Dante's mouth was:

"_What the hell did you do to my place!_"

Vergil strolled in just as Dante started a rampage to a slightly scared looking Lady, and a Trish who was drinking a beer bottle on Dante's chair, her feet up.

In the middle of the room was a large table with many documents on it. There were blueprints of buildings, notes of what was apparently plans for missions, and a fold out small-scale map of what looked like New York. The blade of a dagger was fixed upon a location that Vergil didn't have the time to find out, as Dante seemed to be getting angrier and angrier by the second on his blinding rage as he stomped around the room, pointing out how they managed to ruin his place. Even in, Vergil noticed, places that were completely untouched.

"…and lastly," Dante barked "What the hell kind of reason made you _do_ this?"

There was a small silence.

"Well," Lady answered calmly. Apart from the fact that she was slightly paler than usual, there was no visible indication that she had just been yelled at "We needed a HQ somewhere."

Upon the blank expression on Dante face, Trish butted in.

"We set up a defence group against the demons. New York is getting ruined more and more every day, all the demon hunters in the city are members"

"Mhm," Lady said "And we managed to get the anti-demon patrol to help us…"

Another blank stare from Dante.

"While you were gone, the government set up a new kind of police," Trish explained "They're equipped with better guns, small blades and are better trained than police."

Dante took a while to take all of this in. He was staking heavy breaths like a winded bull, the anger still apparent on his face. After a minute or two, he seemed to remember something.

"Oh, this is Tailor," he suddenly stated, introducing Tailor to the two "He's a General in the military."

A twinkle appeared in Lady's eye.

"Right. He may be of use to us."

"Whatever," Dante said with a yawn "I'm off to bed."

Without saying goodnight to anyone, he opened the door leading to the stairs, then heavy steps could be heard. At last, after a few more opened doors from upstairs, the noise of one being slammed could be heard, then a loud _THUNK_. Dust sprayed from the ceiling, as Dante had apparently collapsed on the bed.

* * *

_Joe: Whew, that took a long while to make. _

_Sorry for the wait._

_Which reminds me, do you want shorter chapters or longer chapters?_

_Include it in your review, please._

_That probably all bored you as well. Sorry about that too._

_Ciao._


	12. Introducing the Devil Hunters

_Joe: This is getting frustrating. Why couldn't 666 happen later? I badly need to get further in the story to reach that point in the plot, and I'm chapters behind._

_Ah, well, it can't be helped._

_Anyway, thanks for the support. Votes say that chapters should stay long._

_And if you're wondering what took me so long, I was in Rome for the past week, halfway through making this chapter. The fics after making a huge change now, it's left the main flow of war and into it's affects on civilian life._

_That's everything of importance, here we go._

* * *

_Cairo, Egypt. 07:52._

Two men crawled up a sand dune, as the sun was only after rising above, casting it's immediate heat and light upon anything in it's gaze. The two men were in a camouflage perfectly identical to the sand they were crawling on, a light shade of yellowish gold. Their face was painted in streaks of the same colour. They were not to be seen here. A wrong move meant certain death, they had been told.

They both reached the top of a tall dune.

One of them, codenamed '_Stamper'_ turned to the other and signalled for the other to take out his equipment.

The other man, '_Cornea_', nodded and took out a pair of binoculars, also camouflaged

Stamper reached inside the deep pockets of his camouflage and took out several pieces of yellow metal, with a few black cartridges of ammunition. And, a yellow tube.

Silently, Stamper affixed them to each other, just as he had been trained to. Slowly the pieces of metal started to look like a weapon of sorts. A sniper rifle.

It was a newbie, part of the recent flow of technology that was spitting out new weaponry by the day. This was the weapons first use out on the field.

It's design was also new, an AP-62. It used high-calibre penetration type bullets, like an anti-tank rifle. The gun itself was bolt-action, which meant to have to reload by hand after every fire.

One shot. One kill. No mistakes.

At last, Stamper affixed the long yellow tube to the end of the weapon. The suppressor.

Cornea, named so because of his purpose, peered through the binoculars towards the nearest pyramid, the largest of them all, the Great Pyramid of the Pharaoh Khufu.

For, Cornea was Stamper's spotter.

They had been assigned to assassinate a man that had been codenamed '_The Big Man_'. They hadn't to know his real name. It was unknown anyway, but that wasn't the main reason. Learning the person you're about to kill's name is a big mistake. Amateur screw-up #1. _Never_ learn more about your target than is necessary. You develop a conscience when you know your target too much. And bad things happen when the idiot acts on his conscience and screws up the mission.

Cornea lightly tapped Stamper and told him the exact whereabouts of the target.

Stamper held the AP-62 and flicked the scope to the best measurement. He placed it before his eye.

He saw them almost immediately. The large crowd of them all. Stamper had never seen a stranger group before, and he had been in this job for quite a while now. They were all a bunch of oddballs. He could see one with blue hair and a largely beaked nose. He wasn't the target. There was a young one amidst them as well - Stamper guessed that he was just entering manhood. He was traipsing beside one with dark hair and pale skin. Hell, they all had pale skin. That was rare around here.

They were getting off of some camels that they had ridden up on.

There he was. 'The Big Man'.

Platinum hair, long trench coat that was single piece and was like a robe. Black? In the heat of the sun? In _Egypt_? Idiot.

Stamper lightly pushed his fingers against the side of the rifle to aim it slightly more to the left. Just fractionally more. You needed to be very particular and careful in this job. This mission in particular. He screwed this one up and the firing squad would be waiting for him.

The man's head was right between the crosshairs. Perfect. A quick pull of his fingers, and it would be over. All that they had to worry about then would be escape. No problem. They were almost perfectly camouflaged with the sand.

Stamper delicately kept aiming his rifle more and more to the right, as the man walked towards the pyramid.

Stamper fired.

The suppressed gun spat once, and Stamper didn't reload. There would be no point.

Wait a second. The man hadn't fallen to the ground.

Stamper exchanged a confused glance with Cornea.

Stamper flicked the scope to a high magnification and Cornea put the binoculars back on.

The bullet appeared to have stopped in the air bear the man.

_Impossible_.

Before Stamper could react, he could see the man turn to face them through the scope.

_How did he know they were there?_

The man had a curious expression. What was it? _Was he _smiling_?_

The bullet turned around in midair and darted through the air, right into Stamper's throat.

With a gurgling sound, Stamper's face went into the sound.

Dead.

The bullet didn't stop there, it had already gone through Stamper's neck and then stopped again in the air near Cornea. It turned around in midair again.

Forgetting all thoughts of silence, Cornea let loose one scream of horror before he, too, felt the kiss of the lead on his neck.

* * *

"How about the rear entrance?"

"No. Too predictable. We've done that too many times already."

"Well, we can't exactly barge in through the front where most of the security lies."

"True, but we still need a change. The element of surprise is an option that we are not using."

"The hell? I hate it when you talk like a Goddamn psychic."

Dante opened the door into his office and immediately shielded his eyes. The sun's glare was shining right into his eyes, as the blinds were open.

Lady, Trish, Vergil and Tailor turned to face him, along with two others whose name Dante couldn't quite remember yet.

"Morning," Trish said brightly.

Dante merely grunted in response and walked across the room to shut the blinds.

"What? Now you're suddenly a vampire too, demon?" Lady remarked.

Dante silenced her by a glare from his bloodshot eyes.

"He gets like this when he wakes up," Trish explained dully "It normally takes him around a half an hour - a quarter aided by coffee - to brighten up."

Dante pushed one of the people who's name he didn't know out of his chair without speaking. Quite literally, actually. He had shoved the man as hard as he could.

The man in question was rubbing his side where Dante had struck and leaned grumpily against the wall.

Dante didn't notice it, but Vergil was giving Dante a curious look while showing a rare smile.

Dante was grumpy and tired. Time to irritate him.

"We're planning an attack on demonic territory," Tailor explained "These are all demon hunters who are with us in the fight," he held his hand out for emphasis.

Dante never responded, as he gave an annoyed growl at Vergil, who had casually hurled an apple at him from across the room.

Dante hurled it straight back.

"The demons have gotten the devil worshippers and Satanists all across the city under their control," a devil hunter stated "They're normally armed with - Dante?"

"Are you even listening?" Trish barked.

It was a stupid question. She knew full well that he wasn't.

For, he was having a war of his own with Vergil, and they were flinging items at each other.

"Dante, if you don't stop, I'm taking Agni and Rudra out of the attic!" Trish threatened.

Dante stopped immediately, having no intention of listening to the twin blades ramblings while he sat there.

Vergil was under no obligation to stop, though. He threw the CD player at Dante, who received it on the head, and cursed loudly.

Trish threw the stapler from Dante's desk at Vergil.

"Stop it!" she snapped.

With a huff, Vergil leaned against the wall again.

"Go on, Pike" she said politely to the Devil Hunter.

"…Right," said the Devil Hunter, nicknamed Pike (because of the tattoo on his arm of a blood soaked pike) "Anyway, the devil worshippers are normally armed with knives and AK-47s . They're not much of a threat, as they have no training whatsoever, but they can still kill a civilian hostage, which they seem to like taking."

Pike had a badly shaven head. It seemed as though stubble was growing on his scalp, like Tailor. He was white-skinned, unlike Tailor, and was more easy-going. He was more like Dante, who tended to joke a lot. He normally had a cigar in his mouth - he didn't now, which was unusual for him. He smelled of stale tobacco and his voice was croaky.

"They have no idea what they've gotten themselves into," Lady stated glumly "They think this is all some part of 'Satan's' plan."

Vergil made a snorting noise apparently out of contempt.

"_Satan_…those imbeciles. He's just a demon that helps transport lost souls for demonic use - the flame a Phantom uses to battle, for example. Or, the souls that a Death Scythe uses to make a whirlwind out of. He has nothing got to do with all of this…_imbeciles_"

Dante merely stared out the window, obviously still groggy. A moth outside appeared to have caught his attention and his eyes darted from side to side, following it's progress.

Eventually, the moth got eaten by a bird flying by. He turned back to listen to the conversation.

"So what's with those plans of breaking into somewhere I heard?" he asked, feeling a little better "Sounds like you've got a plan"

"They've gotten hold of an old church," a black-haired Mexican female Devil Hunter that Dante recognised as being nicknamed 'Anvil' answered "It looks like they're scheming something over there - whatever it is, it can't be good for us."

"We need to stop whatever they're up to before they go ahead and do it!" Trish stated "We've lost a lot of people by waiting and wasting time before, we can't risk anything now."

"What breed of demons are they?" Vergil queried.

"Lower class," Pike replied "You know, the 7 sins, marionettes. There are actually a few middle class ones as well, like Blades or Goatlings. There might be the occasional Abyss or Frost, though. I think I saw a Death Scissors."

There was a small pause where the twins were in deep thought. Tailor merely tried to look thoughtful, as he hadn't a clue what the hell Pike had just said. He had only seen two kinds of demons before - excluding Dante and Vergil. The Hydra and the Soldiers of Sin.

"Oy!" Vergil suddenly exclaimed. He was looking at Dante's weapon wall. There, on a rack, were two pairs of Gauntlets. One of these two pairs were now in Vergil's hand. "These are mine! I thought I'd lost them!"

Vergil was holding the Beowulf flash Gauntlets and Grieves. Dante knew better than to argue.

"So when do we act?" Vergil asked, as he fitted on Beowulf. He was showing no effort in trying to hide the fact that he just wanted to try out the devil arm.

"Well, first we've to contact the rest and tell them that you two have returned," Anvil said "They'll be happy to know that."

Dante rose, but he didn't turn to that door.

"Coffee first," he demanded.

Trish rolled her eyes.

"You know where you can make a cup. Upstairs, next to the broken microwave."

Dante stormed heatedly up, after realising that Trish had broken yet another microwave.

* * *

"So where the hell is this big HQ place?" Dante asked.

They were Underground, standing before the rails as if they were waiting for a train.

"Down this way," Trish stated, jumping down onto the rails.

Dante froze.

"What? Down there?" he asked nervously "Are you mad?"

"Stop worrying, demon," Lady taunted, jumping down with Trish, shortly joined by Pike and Anvil "No trains have gone down here since the speech you two had on the demons."

Still looking slightly anxious, Dante timidly got onto the railway and looked both ways before starting to walk.

"What is wrong, Master? Are you afraid?"

Dante was forced to bring Agni and Rudra with him. When he went upstairs for coffee, he found them in the press. Apparently, Trish had taken them down from the attic for a mission, and left them there. Dante knew that if he hadn't taken them with him, he never would have heard the end of it. While he had gone, Trish had told them that there was no need to remain silent, as Dante wasn't there. Now that they had gotten used to talking again, Dante knew that he wouldn't be able to stop them again. He blamed Trish. And rightly so.

"There is no need to be afraid, Master," Agni stated loudly "Did you not hear Lady Trish?"

"Do you know what could cheer Master up?" Rudra said to his brother "A _song_!"

"**NO**!!" Dante barked "If any of you even _thinks_ of singing, I'll throw the _both_ of you into the sea!"

That stopped them from singing. But, unfortunately, not from talking.

The seven of them had to endure their conversation all the way down the tunnels.

"How much longer?" Dante groaned weakly, after what seemed like hours, and after the twin swords had a pleasant discussion on the economic climate.

"Don't worry," Anvil said encouragingly "It's only a minute or two more to go."

And sure enough, after two minutes (or what seemed like half an hour to Dante) they reached something that shouldn't have been there.

Along the tunnel wall was a large hole from ceiling to floor and wide enough to fit all of them. It led into another tunnel made by the members of the force for their main HQ.

They stepped through and walked along the new tunnel. Tailor was looking at the sides of it.

"How did you manage to make it like this?" he asked "The walls don't have the texture given from being dug at"

"C2" Pike replied "Plastic explosive. C3 would've been overdoing it, and it was enough to make a crevice, then we just used it again and again 'til we got what we wanted"

Dante noticed a glimmer of light from ahead, with the low rumble of chatter, then he quickened his pace.

He arrived in a large cavern lit by torches, which were held up at the walls. There was a large wooden desk in the centre, with a large mound of paper on it. No one was seated at it, but some were leaning over it, going over the paperwork.

"Welcome to HQ" Trish stated "This is our main hideout from the demons."

Dante could recognise plenty of familiar faces. Enzo Ferino, an old friend of his, a guy he only knew as 'Mute' who, as his nickname suggested, was a mute. There were a few men and women that Dante recognised as cops, and although they were in uniform, it wasn't the NYPD one. It was like the usual attire of the SWAT team, bullet proof chest armour and the such, all of it pitch black, but it had a crest on the heart - the American flag with a shield in front. The Anti-Demon force, a new form of policing that almost every country had enforced, and mainly with the same kind of uniform and crest - their country's flag with a shield.

Upon their entrée, everyone turned, and a few people waved. Others, like Mute (who couldn't do anything else) merely nodded.

"We have a few new additions," Lady called out, gesturing at the twins and Tailor "Dante - who we all know, Vergil - his brother -"

Several people murmured. Nobody had known that Dante had a brother. Not out of shock did they murmur, but happily. _Two_ half demons? Interesting.

"-And General Tailor from the army," Lady finished.

"Right," croaked Enzo, "A bit of help is always welcome. Oh," he suddenly added, nodding towards Tailor "There're some weapons in that locker over there" he gestured towards a locker "Y'might want to help yourself."

Dante couldn't help himself, and joined Tailor in taking a look at the weapons. To his huge dismay, he discovered that most of them were his.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?!" he snapped at Enzo "Just about all of these are mine!"

Enzo grinned. "Couldn't resist. Y'had some nice ones at your place"

Dante was just about to retort when Tailor called out: "You got a Boydes Anti -Tank Rifle!"

"Whuh?" Dante commented, turning to look at what Tailor had uncovered. "Oh, you mean Spiral"

"_What?_" Tailor said "This is a Boydes Anti-Tank Rifle -"

"Yeah, Spiral," Dante said, seemingly glad Tailor got it.

Tailor was confused.

"This is a Boydes Anti-Tank Rifle, where the hell did you get 'Spiral' from?"

Dante shrugged his shoulders.

"Dunno. Seemed like a good name at the time."

Tailor rolled his eyes towards heaven as he took up the weapon. They both turned to the conversation.

"While ye lot were having a nice break off at Dumary Island, we were working our asses off here-" began Enzo.

"Where?" Dante said. Today was not his day. Everything was suddenly confusing.

"Dumary Island," Vergil explained "That's the English translation of 'Vie De Marli'. It's what it is referred to on most maps. That's why you couldn't find the place on your map - you didn't know it's English title"

Dante sat down, deciding that he had better back out of the conversation due to his complete lack of knowledge on the situation.

"Right," Enzo continued "While ye lot were all off, _we_ had the job of keepin' this place in check."

Anvil said: "The main problem is the random fights breaking out. People are scared nowadays, they're keeping in their houses unless of a vital necessity. Demons simply knock in doors and slaughter the people inside, it's our job to prevent them to."

"So what's this Anti-Demon patrol doing, then?" Tailor queried.

"Same thing this group is," answered a male member of the uniformed bunch "Whatever we can. The only difference is that we have shifts in patrolling the place. It's the cops job to see which people are out after curfew - most people are scared enough at daytime, so it's normally Satanists or possessed people out at that time."

"But what about this abandoned church?" Dante asked from his seat.

Pike lit a cigar (his usual habit) as he answered "We haven't dared to go in yet - it's an unbelievable crowd in there normally, and we haven't got a plan yet."

"But-" Anvil suddenly stated, a glint now in her eye as she apparently realised something "I like our odds now that we have you three…"

The glint seemed to be contagious. Enzo received it as well. "Yer right…" he said "Things have changed - you three will make things different - hah! They won't know what hit them!"

Lady walked over to the desk and picked up a large sheet from under a large pile, then showed it to the group.

"Here's the plan of the church. A full scale attack mightn't be wise - but it might be effective. We might use some little details in our plan that may help, like…" she trailed off.

"A pincer movement," Trish recommended "Two teams - grapple up to one of the stained glass windows and jump in and grab their attention while the other group does the same from the other side."

"Wait, isn't this a little hasty?" Anvil said worriedly, the glint now gone "A stupid little pincer movement isn't a great plan - we're forgetting that these three are able to die as well!"

"Not easily," Vergil said "I'm not planning on dieing at the hands of a worthless group of lower class demons"

"None of us are," Enzo said "But this group have been on our minds for some time. It'd be nice to finally get rid of them. It's not all demons, there are the Satanists as well, remember?"

Lady snorted. "And they haven't even got some blue orbs to keep them alive! I bet Tailor could kill one with a single shot of - what's that stupid name? - Spiral!"

Lady gathered them round the table, the took out a pen.

"We might as well start planning then, if we're doing this soon," she stated logically.

Vergil snatched the pen and started laying down some tactics. He had a plan.

* * *

Crìnge walked up to the Pyramid and placed his hand up to it. He closed his eyes and focused.

A rumble came from the Pyramid, then an opening appeared in the Pyramid.

He turned to face the order. "Ready?"

They exchanged excited glances.

"Nicely done, Crìnge," Pontius said, admiring the work "…Haven't lost it at …all"

They stepped in, one by one, where a corridor lay.

Joel gulped and stepped back to get a full idea what he was looking at.

"Have you told your boy about this place yet?" Crìnge asked Pontius, the both of them had waited politely for the others to go in first.

"No...you do it…I'm too slow at this god awful language," Pontius replied with his usual blank face. If he had been someone else, he would have grinned.

"My pleasure," Crìnge replied "You see…Joel, is it? Have you heard of the Temi-Ni-Gru? Well, it was made by possessed humans who we had managed to take control of. WE made them build a - tunnel, if you will - to our world, so we could enter this world and rule it. But, it wasn't the only edifice we made them build. Did you ever wonder, when you were younger and learning history, why the Egyptians built these? As tombs for their dead Pharaohs? No, no, that would simply be too much. It would take decades to build one of these alone. The Pharaohs were merely one of our favourite hosts. We normally possessed druids and priests, but a king - much too irresistible. They worshipped these people even more because of their new behaviour, they truly acted like gods. We even gave them a power or two - to really show them who's boss. It was all a joke at the time. We made them build these Pyramids for a backup link between the worlds. This -the biggest, is the control one. The others are essential as well, they act as powerhouses for this one. Now, it is time to renew the link and use these pyramid's function. It is not the only other building we built, but it is a favourite…"

Joel took in a deep breath and looked at the building before him. He felt excited. He was on the winning team, and it felt good.

Crìnge stepped into the corridor. "Coming? They are all waiting inside"

Pontius followed, then Joel took a last look outside, then entered with them.

"It's a shame we are so late," Crìnge said " 666 was a while ago now, wasn't it? A tremendous shame, we disappointed. But, we will soon make up for it"

The opening in the Pyramid went downward, then finally closed after them.

* * *

_Joe: Ahh, another chapter finally done. Did you find that boring?_

_Sorry. This is happening too often._

_Next chapter will be action again, I promise._

_Remember, those of you who have this on their favourites or alert lists, please review. _

_Please?_

_Ah, well, until next time,_

_Ciao._


	13. Fallen Church

_Disclaimer: Anything that's copyrighted here does not belong to me._

_Joe: Well, here we go again-…what's that? Why am I late?_

…

_So, as I said, here we are again, with a new chapter of…_

_You want to know what's up with the timing?_

…

_So, if anyone would let me finish, I would have told you that you're about to get another fighting filled chapter and…_

_You have a one track mind, you're relentless, you are._

…

_Anyway, here we go - the thirteenth (no time to be superstitious) chapter of the Justice Within Two Evils._

* * *

"Everyone ready? Guns loaded? Tailor, you okay with that gun there? Looks like a strain to hold, maybe that Boydes Anti-Tank - fine, Dante, have it your way - maybe that 'Spiral' isn't a great weapon to have at the moment."

"It's fine, don't worry about it"

"Good. Everyone here is sure they're ready? Lady, stop sticking your tongue out at Dante. Yes, Lady - in fact, you too Vergil, it's not like you to act so immature."

…

"I heard that. Stoppit, Dante, for my sanity's sake. Right, we go in a few minutes, we've just to wait for Anvil's signal, remember, that means her team is ready. Ready? - Yes, smartass, I do realise I've said that word at least three times in the past minute. Pike - put that damned thing out, they'll see and smell the smoke."

Pike grumbled as he spat out the cigar and squashed it with his foot, using every given chance to glare at Trish.

Nobody was really exactly happy with her right now, as she was proceeding to boss everybody else around. Nobody had assigned her to leader, she just took it up herself - to everyone's dismay.

They were standing near the church, well concealed in the garden by the side. The midday sun was shining overhead, an ideal weather situation for the time being.

It was agreed that the plan should definitely not be carried out at night. At night, demons blended into the darkness - especially shadows, who were bastards when you couldn't see them - and there was less security around the place. The Anti-Demon patrols that had the late shift were normally groggy eyed and not at full attention, and the NYPD got to go around in their patrol cars, not taking in every detail before they drove away. Demons could hide brilliantly in the dark.

In the sunlight, however, it provided the humans with good sight, essential for killing demons.

The stereotype that demons could not stand the sun was just a stupid thought. All the sun did was provide heat and light. Demons originally dwelt in the Underworld, for god's sake. The place with all those boiling rivers, occasionally filled with lava or magma, and with absolutely nothing to cool them down, with absolutely no wind. It was a stuffy place. They obviously had resistance to heat, so the sun would only make them more at home.

A flare went into the air, a strange sight considering they were on dry land. But, the group of people there were expecting it.

"Anvil's group's ready," Dante said "Time to go in"

They went in through the back entrance, going along with Vergil's plan. He had seen the designs for this church as being Gothic, and had been told it was Catholic. Most churches of that design had a few chambers in the back where the priest got ready, or the altar boys and girls.

That being the same kind of room they entered. No demons in there, though, for some strange reason. The group inspected the room.

Kegs were in the room, apparently filled with supplies for the sermons. Being a catholic church, it would probably be filled with the 'holy' bread and wine for blessing by the priest during mass.

"I can see why no demons are in here," Dante stated as he ripped the lid off a keg, which was filled with holy water "They're not taking any risks…either that, or they _still_ haven't figured out on how to open a door. Most likely the door thing."

Tailor chuckled as he opened the other kegs, proving their assumption correct. Many of them were filled with circular, wafer thin bread pieces, and some form of wine. Dante dipped his head in for inspection of the wine, much to Vergil's disgust.

"We move on?" Pike grunted.

"No" Vergil replied "Beyond that door would be the chapel, where all the demons would be. Wait for the second signal before we go in"

Trish took out an empty phial from her belt and dipped it in the holy water for later use.

Dante dipped a phial of _his_ into the wine. He inspected the keg of holy water.

"I got an idea"

He held Rebellion and dipped in into the liquid. Due to the fact that Rebellion was made of demonic metals, it sizzled, but, being a sword of Sparda's, remained intact.

For once, Vergil was impressed by an idea of Dante's, then dipped his katana in as well.

"For extra damage" he explained to the surrounding raised eyebrows.

While they were there, Tailor dipped the Impaler in as well.

A shine, dimmed by the stained glass window, slightly lit the room. Lady opened the door and peeked outside.

"That's Enzo's flare - his team is ready"

"'Bout damn time" Dante grumbled, cracking his neck from side to side, along with his fingers "Let's go"

He walked up to the door and kicked it open, Ebony and Ivory spinning in his fingers. Before he could point them at anything, he let loose a noise of surprise, caught unawares by the strange sight before him.

More involuntary gasps from behind him as they joined Dante into the main room.

The chapel was a mess. Benches were knocked over, the altar had been cleaved in two. The balconies had collapsed down onto the ground, making piles of rubble where they met the ground. Poor Jesus on the cross had several unholy blades stuck into him, as if it had been used for target practice. The canvases on which the stations of the cross were painted were slashed, apparently the demons did not like what they saw in here when they came.

Carcasses of dead bodies hung from the ceiling, mainly by arachne webbing. Others were all in piles. The ghastly thing about it was that they were mainly human bodies. The entire thing created a miasma of depression to those who were human. Bodies of actual humans lying around the place - defilation of anything that was considered 'good'. They destroyed everything that the church once stood for.

Dante's mouth was still agape when Lady managed to break the silence. "…Well, Enzo's team should have done their part outside by now, and so must Anvil's"

They all nodded dumbly. The main plan was for their team to go in and storm the demons (A plan made due to the arrival of the twins) while the other two teams loaded explosives in their designated spots. Anvil the front entrance (which was barricaded, hence the need to blow it up) and Enzo the ceiling near the front door, on the opposite side of the church that Dante and co. were. It was intended that half of the demons would be wiped out for the rest to be slain by the team.

**BOOM!**

The entrance flew into countless pieces as it exploded, sending charred fragments of wood and stone at the demons that got in the way.

"That's the entrance gone, now hold back the demons to get in the way of the next one!" Vergil said as he rushed forward, Beowulf strapped on his knuckles.

He punched a Goatling in the face, then tripped it up with his feet. He was about to uppercut it into the air when a sword came out of nowhere, piercing his target and killing it. He turned angrily to Dante, who caught Rebellion as it returned to him.

"He was mine!" he barked.

Dante smirked as he spun round to cleave a Hell Pride in half. Vergil cursed to himself as he looked at the others actions.

Tailor was fumbling with the Impaler, and had received a slash across the chest. Eventually, he got sick of his Devil Arm and took out Spiral, finally being of use in the battle.

None of the others were in any trouble, Lady pumping anyone with lead, Trish (Vergil's eyes bulged) using Sparda to slash at any demon near her, and Pike was carelessly firing rounds expertly at demon's heads.

He turned round, then unsheathed Yamato, which was glowing after being dipped in holy water. He cut sideways at a Hell Sloth, and found that the blade left a steaming gash in the enemy. He left it for a while, watching with amusement as the devil screamed and writhed on the floor, the holy water spreading throughout it's system and causing it's entire body to steam. It then turned to sand, defeated.

Suddenly remembering his secondary weapon, he took out Betsy and fired at all surrounding enemies.

Trish ducked as a Blade tried slashing at her, then swung Sparda upwards, breaking a segment of it's armour. Trish aimed her handgun, then fired at the spot where the armour had previously been, right at the shoulder. The Blade screeched as it fell over, blood pumping out of the major blood hotspots on the body.

"Get outta the way!" Pike called out of the fight "The ceiling at the front of the place should be going off any minute!"

Vergil leaped out of the path of a Scythe, then sprinted towards the back of the church where everybody else was heading to.

**BANG!**

Dante looked up in amazement as the ceiling gave way. Demons that were chasing after the apparently retreating humans halted and looked up, then screeched as they were crushed by the collapsing ceiling, the sky falling in on them.

There was a silence for a while.

"Everybody okay?" Trish asked "Everybody here? No-one missing? Good. Let's check for any survivors"

They searched around the rubble for living demons that had escaped from the crumbling ceiling. Nothing.

"Wonder why none of them stayed near the top of the place? They could've survived if they did" Dante queried.

"Most likely some holy water at the altar," Lady answered "They'd stay well clear of that stuff.

Pike looked around one last time before lighting a cigar.

"Looks like the job's done" he croaked "Finally, that group of bastards we're startin' to get on my nerves…"

* * *

Cheers greeted the group as they walked (with only a little hint of a strut) into the HQ. Dante took little notice, like Vergil, who did not normally acknowledge praise, as they were used to it.

Tailor, on the other hand, acted awkward. In the army, success was merely nodded at, as it was expected, yet failure was punished. Any outstanding success was rewarded with a day or few leave.

Lady and Trish smiled, for this was a huge victory for the cause. It should have dented the demon's operations severely.

Dante leaned against the wall, facing Enzo with a glint in his eye.

"Even _you_ have to admit, that was pretty well done, wasn't it?"

Enzo grinned weakly. "Yes, but-"

"You are _not_ going to tell me that there's something else to do" Dante growled.

Enzo's slight grin expanded. "No, I'm not, I was going to say that your team barely did anything, it was _mine_ that made the huge landslide in our chances of winning."

Dante gave Enzo a look of mock anger.

"Then I suppose that since there's nothing left to do, we can go now?" Tailor asked hopefully, now weary of dark, depressing backgrounds.

Enzo shrugged. "Do what you please. Could've left whenever you wanted, we can't stop you."

Dante and Tailor were already heading towards the door at the end of the sentence, while Vergil and Trish gave them disapproving looks.

"What!" Dante asked "I'm only going for a drink!"

"Then, I'm coming too," Pike grunted as he joined them.

Before anyone could interject, the three headed out into the tunnel, back into the Underground.

They made their way through the passageway, onto the railway tracks, through Grand Central Station and outside, in the space of half an hour of a swift pace.

The sun was starting to sink, casting an orange glow to everything. Dante sniffed the fresh air and gave a loud exhale.

"Missed the place. Never really got time to think about anything until now"

Pike lit a cigar and looked around. "Which bar?"

Dante shrugged. "Whichever is closest."

Pike took the lead, heading into the streets, where barely anyone were going to their business. There was definitely an immense difference to the New York Dante left and the one he was in. It lacked the atmosphere it once had, where there was once a constant stream of people there was the odd scattering. Instead of people yelling into their cell phones over the noise there was silence and emptiness.

"Here we are. Mike's place" Pike suddenly grunted out of the blue.

Dante jolted. He hadn't been paying attention to where they were going, as he was looking over the differences of the place.

Mike, the barkeeper, had never bothered to come up with a proper name for his place. Outside, a sign indicated that alcohol was served here, and that was normally enough for most people. His usual customers referred to the place as 'Mike's Bar'.

The bar, like the streets, lacked the once busy atmosphere it once had. People from all around the area once came here, now the only other occupant of the place (Besides a forlorn looking Mike) was an old man at the bar who was asleep with his head resting on his empty glass. Mike hadn't the heart to wake him.

They found a table in the corner, then Dante went to fetch some drinks.

"Very quiet nowadays, Mike," he said to the man "I suppose that you're almost alone here most of the time?"

Mike nodded sadly and sighed.

"Yeah…and Trace has left as well"

Dante looked surprised. "So it's only yourself here serving? What's she gone off to do now? - Oh yeah, three pints please, don't be particular on what beer type"

Mike shrugged as he poured the first drink. "She said she's off to her family in Massachusetts. Good idea, I say. Leave this Goddamn place before it has it's affect on you. Things are changing here, Dante."

Dante nodded glumly in agreement. "I noticed. The streets are almost bare, have people stopped working? Are they all gone or hiding in their homes?"

Mike pulled the second one as he answered. "Most are still working. Taking extra time, so they won't have to spend as much time in fear at their houses. The workplaces are getting filled with people who are working themselves to exhaustion or to silliness"

"Hmm," Dante responded "I would have imagined that a lot would have left to other places"

"That too," Mike stated, handing the second one and starting on the third "But not all. Some find it cowardice, others find it just plain sense. Suits themselves. There you go, Dante, it was nice to see a friendly face again."

"Cheers," Dante replied, then told Mike to put it on the tab, and headed to the table.

Mike sighed and went to clean a glass that was already sparkling.

Dante sat down and handed the drinks over. The three drank deep in unison, then placed the drinks down one by one (Dante being the last).

Tailor looked out the window. "It's not exactly what I expected New York to be like," he said "Thought it would be much more packed."

"It's just fear of the demons keeping most off the streets," Pike said "It's normally filled to the brim with people"

Another silence, where drinks were taken.

The door opened, and a disgruntled looking Vergil stepped in cautiously. He looked around, then his eyes rested on their table. He shut the door and walked over.

"Finally fallen for a nice bottle of stout?" Pike smugly asked.

Vergil looked revolted at the thought. "_No_," he replied back coldly "I don't drink that vomit. It makes idiots out of anybody and is terrible for your health. I joined you because there's nothing left for me to do."

"Then where's the others?" Tailor asked.

"Enzo and the group have gone on a small extermination. Told me that it was nothing to worry about, and that there was no need to be involved."

Mike was ecstatic at the arrival of another customer. Five people was a new record for these days. (The old man included)

"What'll you be havin', then?" He called across the bar. The old man snoozed on.

"A wine, I suppose…" Dante mumbled to himself. Vergil glared at him and called back to Mike.

"…What stouts do you have, barkeep?"

This was out of pure spite for Dante, rather than anything else. It wasn't pulled off very well, and Dante almost laughed at Mike being called 'barkeep'.

"Ehh…" Mike was hugely surprised at the name 'barkeep' and it showed "We've got-"

"I'll just have what they're having" Vergil interrupted.

Mike nodded the affirmative. Dante snorted.

"Would you like a bib with that? Wouldn't want you to spill it on yourself…Drinking big grown up drinks like this…"

Under the table, Vergil kicked Dante. A large crack appeared on Dante's chair with the force.

Mike poured it and looked at Vergil pointedly.

"Is there anything wrong?"

Pike laughed into his drink. "What? Do you expect him to bring it over on a silver plate or something? Do you need a red carpet, or are you just stupid?"

Vergil stood as if he had just received a shock. He was definitely _not_ at home in the bar. He mumbled to himself as he went to get his drink, and told Mike to put it on the tab.

He sat down and took a testing sip.

Nope, he didn't die.

He took a mouthful and swallowed disdainfully, his discomfort evident. He said nothing.

"So…tell me," Pike drew the attention away from Vergil "Tailor, what's your story? Never heard you talk about yourself."

"I'd like to hear this myself," Dante stated.

Vergil merely nodded.

"Well…" Tailor started uncomfortably, unsure on how to start "I was raised in an orphanage in Virginia - don't know where I was originally born, but it was in America. Never knew my parents… They all knew I wasn't from the state, I had something in my voice - apparently from my father - that distinguished that I was from somewhere else. When I got eighteen, they sent me out, with all my possessions. Spent ages looking for a job, but nothing seemed right. Didn't like Law - everyone in it's a soulless bastard if you ask me. Couldn't be an electrician - too fiddly job for me. Then I saw an advert for the Army. Went and applied, because there was nothing else that I felt like I wanted to do.

"They sent me off to a training program - bloody hard piece of shit, you two are lucky that they just recruited you straight on, instead of giving you proper training. Went through it, became a private. Then there was an incident - a group of people had an important hostage held. Daughter of the President of some important corporation, can't remember which. Police couldn't handle the situation, and the group demanded a huge sum of money from the father. A million or something like that. People in charge panicked and sent in my squad - well, the squad I was in as a last resort (before they would hand over the money. Daddy was a stingy bastard) They were in some abandoned house. We went in the back way - shot the guy that was keeping guard there. Got into the living room where they were situated. Guy pointed a gun at the girl and threatened to shoot her if we didn't back off and drop our weapons. We did just that, I dropped my assault rifle and backed slowly, like everyone else. Then, as he took the gun away and was about to do something, I took my pistol from my sleeve (A trick I had learned) and quickly shot him once in the neck, before he could react to anything. The rest of the group went quietly. The heads rewarded me with a promotion - the Daddy made sure they did. I had a love for weaponry and went through any given mission quickly. After a while (a year or two) I became the youngest General for a while - at the moment I'm twenty-seven…and, well, that's about it."

There was a silence, while everyone took in this information.

"What's your first name? You never told us" Vergil asked, now used to his drink.

They looked at him intently.

Tailor thought for a while. No-one had ever called him by his first name in years - not since his days in the orphanage. "David. David Tailor"

"David, huh…" Dante muttered.

The door opened again. Before Mike could say anything, Trish's head popped in the door.

"C'mon, guys, we're done. Time to go, finish your drinks and - Vergil, are you drinking _beer_? Anyway, time to go."

The three downed the rest of their drinks in a single gulp (Vergil required three) and headed for the door, as Dante paid the tab.

* * *

"General, look at this."

A man leaning over a monitor called for another man to come see. The entire room was filled with monitors and screens, with people watching over them. In the centre of the room were some superiors, mainly men and women in charge.

General Fredrick Granson looked over the man's shoulder and into the monitor. He did not like what he saw.

"For the luvva God…this has gone from a slight annoyance to an outright threat to the entire force…how many men did we lose _this_ time?"

"Seventy-four losses have been counted, sir," the man hesitantly replied.

Granson slammed his fist against the wall in anger.

"GODDAMN IT!"

"Is there something particularly wrong, General?" a woman's voice asked.

The man sighed, not in the mood for this.

"Nothing for you to be involved with, Bayle."

A bespectacled woman in her mid-thirties walked over to him.

"Of course it is. I was sent here for a reason, Granson. And good thing, too - there's been nothing but blunders going on...more recently, you've been sending more and more troops away for international support...Am I to assume that the men we sent over to help in Egypt have been killed? I mean, _another_ group of men we sent over to Egypt have been killed?"

Granson put his fingers to his eyes.

"Don't you worry, we'll get them…"

"No you won't." The woman said sharply "We cannot risk you sending more men to be slaughtered."

The man drew himself up to his full height and glared at her, only just resisting the temptation to yell at her during his sentence.

"Are you saying that this is all somehow _my_ fault?"

Granson was a large bulk of a man. He was muscle bound, white skinned, bald (though, he wore his military headwear to hide it) and a strong man. He had a grey moustache that was just short of being bushy, and his tone was sharp and demanding all of the time.

Bayle didn't flinch, her gaze unyielding.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, _sir_. I'm sure the President will be glad to hear of your…attempts, shall I say?"

"The President has nothing got to do with this!" Granson spluttered.

Bayle was one of the secretaries of the President. She was the first person to be notified of conflict (which she would then inform the President). She had black hair tied in a bun, and pursed lips. Her bespectacled green eyes could look through most people that lied to her, and she was not one to be crossed.

"He has everything to do with this, Granson. Matters dealing with these…things are of utmost importance these days. If they are not wiped out in Egypt, they will start spreading. The President and all the other's in charge of their countries made a promise to each other - and signed a degree on it - to watch over each other during these times of need, it is of the President's highest interest -"

"…Er, sir, madam?" the man by the monitor asked cautiously.

"What!" they both snapped in unison.

The man quailed under both of their anger.

"Well, the survivors - I mean, I mean, those who weren't killed, they have, well, captured one of the demons alive."

Bayle looked thoughtful.

"Interesting…send orders to keep it under control and bring it over here. Our scientists might be happy to see how they tick…have they got it's weaponry? It's battle armour?"

"They have - they have it's blade and it's little black gun. It was wearing it's armour of course."

"yes, yes, silly of me…Time to see how their air quote) 'magical' weapons work, right, General?"

Granson grinned broadly.

"'Bout damn time, Bayle."

* * *

_Joe: Hmm, More OCs, just what we need…_

_Right, I can finally tell you why I was so late…you're not going to like this…_

_First of all, I wasn't on FF or working on any of my fics for a good while, no excuse for that part._

_Secondly, when I came to write more of this, halfway through this chapter, I couldn't remember how I was going to write this one. Did it come out okay in the end?_

_Hope so._

_Well, thanks for the reviews, I'll hopefully be updating much quicker than I did this time._

_Ciao._


	14. Dissecting the Demons

_Disclaimer:- No, nothing here is owned by me. The OCs are, though, but I don't have any protection on them to stop you using them… (Cough) But that doesn't mean you can use them. They're mine!_

_Joe: Thanks for the reviews that came, and even though I'm writing this for fun, it doesn't mean that I'm not mercenary. I like my reviews. **GIMME**._

_Got that sorted._

_This chapter is going to be very serious, until we get to the part in the Devil May Cry. Then it's all humour until we get back out of New York…I'm a humour writer mainly, I can't help. The situation just seemed so perfect when I was writing it. Hope you enjoy it while it lasts, but it's contrasted by the seriousness of the rest of the chapter. I hope. I think there may be action, I can't remember._

_Note: When I was editing this, FF wouldn't let me out a line between paragraphs, so I put little dashes._

_Well, since I can't think of anything else, I'll get started._

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - _

"Well, well, well, this is a nice surprise."

"Hmm, the only surprise for me is the fact that you're actually able to smile, Bayle."

"Up yours, Granson."

"You're welcome. But even I have to admit, this _is_ a nice treat for once."

The two were both waiting by a military jeep, which was towing a large container, inside was supposedly a demon captive. Exactly what the American force needed right now. Once they learned of the demon's technology, they could learn how to use it, and it's weaknesses. If they learned on how they 'tic', they could learn on how it could be easily killed, and what chemical would be poison to it.

The door opened, and the driver stepped out and saluted. "Sir!"

Granson saluted back. "Are you alone? I thought it was standard fare for there to be protection with the driver. Especially in this case."

At that, as if on queue, some soldiers jumped out of the back of the jeep.

"Right, can we get this over with, then?" he then asked "I want to know why we're having so much trouble with these bastards."

"Of course, sir, but I've to tell you something: there has been a slight change in what you were told" the driver answered.

"That's fine, as long as we have one, just open the damned thing," Bayle snapped.

He walked up to the container and opened it up. The two looked in excitedly, and their breath was taken away. There, in the container, was a large transparent box of sorts that filled the entire container, from top to bottom. There was no room to stand in it, as it went all the way to the door. "Triple-paned," the driver stated "We're not taking any chances. First layer is Plexiglas, the second bullet-proof and the third another Plexiglas."

The two nodded dumbly, as their eyes were still contemplating the sight they were facing inside the box.

There were several demons inside, unconscious. They were all tied down, in case of emergency, but it was really all needless. There was something squeezed in behind the box, a large machine that had a pipe going from it, through the box, and then it split into many pipes, covering all of the demon's faces.

"We're gassing the lot with aesthetic." explained the driver.

"I was told there would only be one…exactly how many are there?" Bayle asked.

"Six," Granson replied "There's six…but, they're all…different."

"There's plenty of breeds, isn't there?" The driver said "We captured a few."

If an experienced devil hunter was with them, he could have told them that they had a Hell Pride, two Soldiers of Sin, a Blade, a Marionette, and a Hell Vanguard.

After a few minutes of staring dumbly at the demons, Granson ordered;

"Alright, let's get this thing where we need it… … Bayle, where exactly is that?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - -

They needed 'it' in a laboratory a state or two away, where Scientists and men and women of Medicine would dissect the demon's, and take apart their weaponry for examination.

They were brought over by helicopter bearing the Presidential seal.

"What's with this?" Granson had asked on the way over, surprised that they were to be brought in such luxury.

"I _am_ one of the Presidents most respected advisors," Bayle replied "and he'll be there himself, to see these demons up close. He most likely ordered this helicopter to bring us over."

Granson kept quiet and took to staring at the transparent container, which was right beside him. The light of the sunset was lighting up his face as he attempted to come up with some witty remark to reply to Bayle.

A long while later, they found themselves walking through a grey corridor, soldiers pushing the container along on a set of wheels.

Finally, they came into a room filled with chairs and a coffee table set in the middle. The President was sitting with some excited Doctors, nurses and Scientists, along with some of his advisors.

He stood up as they entered, as did everyone else.

"General Granson, am I to assume?" he asked offering his hand to Granson.

Granson fought hard to keep calm, and shook the given hand heartily. "Yes, sir."

President Raelson was a tall man. He had slowly greying brown hair, and green eyes. He looked every bit his part. He turned to Bayle.

"Ah, Bayle. I hope you got along with Granson well enough? Everything at the Pentagon up to standard?"

"The Pentagon was fine, sir," she replied, choosing not to answer his first question "I suppose we are fully prepared by now?"

The President looked uncomfortable. "Not exactly."

Bayle raised an eyebrow, her way of signalling Raelson to continue, which he was well accustomed to.

"Well, a few hours ago, we had sent word to the Sparda twins to come and join us. We thought it might be necessary for their presence, because they might know a thing or two about it already. We need all the help we can get."

Granson snorted. "You don't seriously trust _those_ two?"

Raelson gave a grim expression. "I do because it's because of them we haven't lost this war already."

"How?" Granson challenged, forgetting his place and who he was talking to.

"If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have known there was a war in the first place."

"We would've copped on eventually! We're not apes! It's still a mystery to me why everyone suddenly believed them and agreed with them in that meeting a while back!"

"Because they had to," Bayle butted in, explaining for the President "In their countries, god knows what was happening. Demons must have been everywhere, like they were here. They needed a believable excuse and help. The twins, at the meeting, told them to prepare themselves, and at the same meeting a link was formed, where all the countries were to assist each other. It was either believe them or pretend all the problems were something else, and refuse the proposition of a single united army at their hands."

Granson looked at her for a while, speechless. Then; "Where the hell do you get this stuff from? You're talking like a Goddamn news presenter! Since when were you an expert on the subject?" he turned to Raelson "Sir, _must_ we cooperate with them? They just turned up outta nowhere and were suddenly elevated to my rank immediately! No training, no nothing! What the hell is going on! All respect for you, sir, but has the White House gone mad?"

Raelson had a grim expression that showed evidence that his thoughts were along the same line.

"Those are some valid points, General. But, I will trust you two to this, and I hope you will not tell any other living soul, but I agree with you. The thing is, I made a mistake with those two, and it will be a huge blow if I admit it and let everybody know the size of the blunder."

"And the election is next month," Bayle stated "Larimore knows of this mistake and he's using it as his main tool to get votes."

"That's why I came here," the President said "To see myself that this is carried out without a flaw."

"I suppose you're leaning heavily on the success of this, more than I thought," Bayle said.

Raelson nodded and sat back down. The other two followed suit. They only had to wait for those two to arrive, those two that were causing so much trouble and doubt without realising.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Much, much earlier that day: New York._

Vergil was squashed on a chair, his legs up and crossed. The midnight moon outside was his only source of light as he read. He didn't need much light. He was accustomed to darkness. He rather preferred it, but he never told Dante that. He grimaced as he thought of the consequences. Dante would laugh and tease and poke, calling him an evil being that must be slain and that Vergil enjoyed carrying away helpless women in old castles to drink their blood and suchlike.

Tailor gave a loud snore from the nearby couch, which he was sleeping on.

Turning his mind away from such thoughts, he flicked over to a new page and continued reading from Sparda's diary. He had discovered that the being he had met at Dumary Island's name was Crìnge. He found a verse to start at, then began reading.

_I remember the day clearly. The only thing that I cannot remember is the date, but I will round it off to around 50 years before the successful banishment of my kind. In the Human type of time it would be considered 50 B. C._

_Long before that date had our armies swarmed in through the many tunnels and gateways that the possessed humans had constructed._

_It was only on that date, however, that our order arrived personally to the human world. From the first breath I took of human air I loved it. It was fresh, unlike the air from our world. It was clear and fully transparent, not blurry and filthy._

_Our hold of the human world was barely fulfilled at all. We had taken the priests and druids, of whom most others would follow without question. They were treated like kings and respect by many, but not all._

_It seems that the remainder of the human race slowly began wary of the actions of their clergy. More and more their trust thinned for these people, until it finally broke when the first demons crossed over. By then it was too late, we could use many gateways to enter, and the only people who knew how to close them were the possessed clergy, and ourselves._

_We rode on horseback to a village near the tunnel that we entered from. We were to annihilate any sign of resistance, and enslave any humans that surrendered._

_My twin and I headed to the Alpha-Male's dwelling, the leader of the town. By modern standards, he would have been called a mayor. The two greatest of our order, Spàirdae and Crìnge, we would be given the privilege of cutting the head off the snake. We dismounted near the house and advanced. Crìnge blew the door off with his thoughts, and we entered. _

_At first, we saw no-one. We walked through several rooms, until a unit sent to defend the leader came and challenged us. We slaughtered them without mercy. My first up-close sight of a human lived up to my expectations: brainless, unintelligent and weak. They did not deserve this land, I thought to myself._

_We came down into the farthest room from the entrance and found our goal. In a last bid to defend his family, the Alpha-Male charged at us with a sword. Crìnge lifted him into the air with his mental abilities and flung him into the wall, then the ceiling, then let him die on the floor._

_It was then that I got my first shock. The human weakly said something in a human language to his frightened family in his dieing words. I could not believe it. They were capable of feelings, apparently. I had not known this until now._

_Crìnge smiled and said that I could finish the family if I so pleased._

_I raised my blade, and was about to swing when the daughter of the man, a young girl of around five, tried to shield herself with her hands alone amid tears._

_My hand stayed, and I paused; I could not kill an intelligent being that was unarmed. Until that moment, I had thought that humans were weak, unintelligent and insignificant little creatures. Well, compared to us, yes. But I had not known exactly what they were like._

_Crìnge gave me a puzzled look before taking out his blade and killing the child himself, then the wife, right before my eyes._

_It was at that moment when I no longer wanted a part in all of it. Crìnge led me out of the house, his hand on my shoulder, not knowing what was wrong. He assured me that I would feel better later._

_I felt like a monster, being part of this terrible cause. I asked Crìnge if there was any chance of co-existence, but he laughed, feeling that it was a joke. I halted in my tracks, serious, and then he started to guess what was wrong. _

"_Sparda, my brother," he said, his voice now without humour "Do not worry for these miserable beings. They are not like ourselves, and are worthless and weak. If this does not avert you from your current thoughts, it is a dark path you now walk. Do you seriously feel for these humans?"_

_I remained for a while, busy with my own thoughts. He placed his hand on my shoulder. "Please, brother, think. We are devils, demons, highest of all beings. If anybody is worthy of this land, it is us. Do not think any more thoughts of rebellion. Please, keep it up, for me."_

_Another silence, when Crìnge's face became sad, then I spoke._

"_I will co-operate, but, please, for the sake of my loyalty, do not make me kill another human being."_

_Crìnge's face was still sad, and he nodded. He knew as he steered us away from that house, and he knew himself that I was not the same, and would not be again._

Vergil suddenly stopped reading, for the moon was no longer high in the sky, and a single ray of sunlight was shining in through the window. He pocketed the diary, and allowed himself to yawn, then his eyes instantly drooped and closed without his realising it.

_Once again he found himself in a clearing, but not in a forest this time. He was surrounded by mist, and the ground was golden and yellow; sand. He wandered for a while but found no sign of anything, save mist and sand._

_He heard a voice suddenly "Come, Vergil, take what it is you seek."_

_There was a faint light from behind the mist, and Vergil dashed for it, remembering what happened last time. Nothing to trip over this time, and no-one to stop him._

_The light sped off, and Vergil hastened his step and pursued it. He would definitely get it this time._

_Then, the mist was there no more, and he could see clearly the light ahead of him, and it was near. Then, he found something much to his dismay, and he roared aloud when he saw it. There, up ahead, was Dante, smirking, and grabbing the light._

Vergil awoke with a start, some noise after waking him, and he found himself sweating once again. He wiped his forehead and looked out the window. It was some time mid-morning, possibly around nine a.m.

He discovered that the phone was the thing that woke him, and Vergil ignored it. Now wasn't a good time for him. He waited for it to stop, then he rested for a while, trying to get fully awake. He couldn't seem to be fully alert as he woke any more, unlike he used to be able to.

Sighing heavily, he got to his feet and paced up and down Dante's office, his thoughts racing.

His eyes suddenly found Sparda, rested on a wooden rack attached to the wall. Vergil's hand found it's way to it's grip, and he lifted it. As soon as he came into contact with it, a red mist generated from it, and the red jewel on it's front suddenly had a cat-like eye on it. He got a sudden sense of power, extreme power, and he worked hard not to laugh aloud. His face broke into an unlikely expression of happiness, as he was holding all that he dreamed of, that he dedicated most of his life to.

Then, a thought occurred to him, a thought that should have come earlier, but didn't. A good reason why demons were swarming in such great numbers was that a power was aiding them. An unknown power. Now revealed to Vergil.

The two amulets were combined, helping the demons enter.

Giving the precious blade one last adoring look, he placed it on Dante's desk. He opened the diary again, and flicked through it to the part where Sparda sealed the great power of his sword away, and created two amulets with it. He found the incantation that Sparda used.

First, he devil triggered, letting him freely use his demonic powers. He gave the verse a few looks before stating the incantation. A Lìstook term, that Vergil was one of the few human (or part human) capable of understanding.

There was a great light, and Force Edge now lay on the table, the two amulets hovering in the air above it. Vergil grabbed his one before they could attract to each other and combine again.

He felt strange. A week or two ago in his memory span and he would have craved this power. Force Edge alone seemed like the top power to him, and the two amulets within his grasp. His life goal would have been complete, he would no longer have needed to resort to forgotten towers and buildings and rituals to get what he wanted. His life, in short, was right before him.

But, now, things were different. _It's my old life before me…_ he thought to himself. It seemed so strange the difference some weeks could cause (It was actually a few years, but not to him). It might be his life once more, after all of this mess was sorted. He had to give up his ultimate goal for the moment for a hope of a great victory, and not until then could he return to attempting to achieving it. There was a strange noise as Tailor jerked awake due to the light.

"Whozere?" he stated groggily as he got to his feet.

He awoke to find a blue-coloured creature holding a golden amulet. He looked at Vergil blankly for a moment, then mumbled to himself. "For a second there, I thought I was awake…"

He lay back down and closed his eyes. Vergil decided it best if he were to go back to human form. Tailor rose awake again, stretching.

"Morning," Vergil said.

Tailor yawned in response. "Y'know, I had a weird dream back there…"

"Really?" Vergil asked, trying hard not to laugh while at the same time trying to sound interested.

"Yeah…" Tailor said "Some weird blue coloured thingie was staring at me, and it was holding some form of golden thing in it's hand-" (Vergil hastily pocketed his amulet) "- and then, in my dream, I figured 'I must be dreamin'. So I closed my eyes and woke up here. Would you believe that!"

"Wow," Vergil said, still having to put up a huge effort on keeping a straight face.

"So," Tailor said as he rose again "What's for breakfast?"

"Umm…" Vergil looked hopelessly around the room "The kitchens upstairs, but…"

Vergil had spent the majority of his life out of contact of humans. He hadn't a hope of being able to cook something. Without setting something on fire.

Vergil opened the door and the two went up. They were surprised to find Dante awake at his small table, grasping an immense mug of coffee. He raised his head as they entered, showing them that his eyes were bloodshot.

"Trish wasn't lyin' when she said you needed that stuff…" Tailor muttered.

"Yes…where is the whore, anyway?" Vergil asked coldly, despite them being comrades, he still felt a strong dislike for Trish.

"Haven't a clue. Probably still asleep in her room," Dante croaked, deciding not to reprimand Vergil for calling Trish that name.

"Well, I'm hungry," Vergil announced "and I don't think anyone here is capable of making a decent breakfast."

Dante raised a hand.

"Pizza doesn't qualify as a 'decent breakfast', brother," Vergil said.

Dante slowly lowered his hand.

"No cereal we could make?" Tailor asked "Anyone can make that."

Dante shook his head sadly, now fully awake.

"Bread?"

Dante shook his head again. Tailor laughed as he sat down. "Well, this is stupid. Three full grown men, unable to cook a breakfast. I never had time to learn to cook. In the orphanage, everything was given to us ready, then I joined the army. No time. What's your excuses?"

"I spent most of my time shut out of human civilization" Vergil said, then they both turned to the last remaining person.

Dante shrugged his shoulders. "Never bothered learning."

"So," Tailor said with disbelief "What you do every morning is wait for Trish to cook?"

Dante thought for a while. "…Yup," he answered simply.

The other two shook their heads disapprovingly. Dante didn't give proper attention and got more coffee, then sat back down by the small table.

Then, the door leading to the bedrooms opened and Trish stepped in in a bathrobe.

"About damn time," Vergil snapped "Go make us some breakfast!"

Dante and Tailor took a sharp inhale of breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Trish asked politely.

"I said breakfast, woman! That's what a woman's purpose is, isn't it?"

Dante and Tailor exchanged glances, not sure whether to laugh or groan. Without a word, they both came to the same conclusion; this would be funny. (They also got out of arms length from the two, just in case)

"What did you just say?" Trish barked. Vergil seemed unabashed, yet still annoyed.

"I'm sorry, you have yet to hear a word that I'm saying. Are you deaf!"

Dante snorted from the table. The two glared at him in unison.

So, Dante and Tailor watched as the two yelled, and ultimately causing Trish to storm out.

There was a pause.

Both Tailor and Dante burst out into fist of laughter, and a confused looking Vergil turned to face them for an explanation, completely unaware that he had done anything wrong.

He waited for the two to finish laughing, (and for Dante to get off the floor) then continued looking at them with his confused expression. Tailor looked at him in disbelief, taking deep breaths to soothe his abdominal pains around his ribs.

"You really don't know what went wrong, do you?" he asked seriously, but still with a hint of humour in his voice.

"Oh, God…" Dante muttered as he stood up and put his hand around Vergil's shoulder "…and you wonder why you have yet to get laid…"

"What was that!" Vergil barked.

"Nothing," Dante said quickly "But, seriously Vergil. _Tell_ me you know that you said something wrong."

Vergil shrugged, and for the first time in his life, found a subject that Dante bested him in.

"Rule #1," Dante said, raising a finger from his free hand "Never talk to women like they are inferior. Which you did all the way through the conversation."

"Rule #2" Tailor said.

Vergil was astounded. Both Dante and Tailor knew these rules. He thought that Dante was making this up as he went along.

"_Never_ give them a direct order. Just ask, or pretend they're doing you a favour."

"No matter how much _they_ try and give you direct orders, and Verge, you're gonna soon find that they will tend to do that a _lot_."

"But don't always do the orders," Tailor pressed "Only sometimes. Don't give the impression that you can be bossed around without trouble. Pretend that you're doing them a favour when you do."

There was a pause.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Vergil said suddenly, unbelievingly, while drooping his head in shame "Where did all this come from?"

"Dunno, probably because we wanted to do something nice for you before…" he trailed off.

"Before what?" Vergil asked.

Tailor tossed an apron at Vergil "Before you make breakfast."

Vergil gave them both a strange expression, waiting for one of them to say 'just kidding!', then he grumbled as it never came as he fixed it on. There was a flash of light. Vergil spun to face Dante, who was holding a camera, grinning. Vergil glared at him, until he put it away.

Vergil opened the fridge, took some meat and eggs out, then turned to face the stove. There was another flash of light.

"DANTE!"

Dante hastily put the camera away, before Vergil saw it.

Within minutes, smoke rose from the oven, and Vergil howled with pain as he burnt his finger while frying an egg.

The door opened again, and Trish stepped in, fully dressed. Vergil looked up hopefully, but Trish merely sat down and joined the others' staring at the stove, looking amused at Vergil's attempts.

Another few minutes later, Vergil served. Trying to be nice to Trish, he gave her an extra portion of burnt sausage.

The three exchanged revolted glances, then pushed the plates away from them.

"All yours, Verge," Dante said.

There was a pause as they watched Vergil eat the food disdainfully.

Trish sighed. "Fine. Gimme that apron"

"You're so nice!" Dante said, not sounding like himself "I'm so lucky to live with you!"

Vergil gagged on a charred piece of bacon as Dante received a kiss. Dante winked at Vergil as Trish set to work.

Vergil raised his middle finger in retaliation.

Tailor flicked on the TV with the remote that was lying on the table.

"There wouldn't be anything on at the moment," Trish called "Don't bother trying."

Tailor ignored her and flicked through the channels. The only non-cartoon thing on at this time of the morning was a current affairs talk show. He left the remote be.

"We are joined today by LAPD official Greg Marrion" the man on the seat stated to the camera "Over the subject of the-" (Air quote) "-'Infestations'."

Everyone turned to the TV at once. A chubby man waddled on set and sat down beside the man, dwarfing him beneath his massive girth.

"Ah, Greg," the man said, pretending to be on first-name status with the man "So, tell me, what are your views on the affairs going on?"

"Well, my views are what I suppose like everyone else's," Greg replied, then pausing for effect "There's a nasty trick going on. I know, and we all know, that there is no such thing as demons."

The knife and fork in Vergil's hands snapped in two and were sent flying. Vergil himself gaped at the screen in horror and disbelief.

"Ah, but, Greg," the small man said "What about all evidence? The millions of people _worldwide_ that insist that demons are true."

"Governments hiding it all up," Greg grunted "There are also millions of people every year that insist they saw _UFO_s as well, my good man, and do we all believe them? No, we don't. We have sense. Or, we did, until recently, until those two…"

"Turn that crap off," Dante demanded.

Tailor needed no second notice, he immediately picked the remote back up and flicked off the TV.

"It just goes to show," Trish called out "That whatever happens and wherever it is, there's always going to be a lot of idiots."

The all nodded in agreement. Trish placed three plates on the table and filled them. Dante picked up a piece of bacon with his fork and smirked at Vergil, who had long finished his half-ash half-food meal, then delicately took a bite out of it, putting on a good show of extreme pleasure, going 'mmm!' and such. Vergil merely glared, disregarding it as a worthwhile attempt to annoy him.

Trish, of course, thought he was complimenting her cooking and smiled at him coyly, tilting her head to one side. She was a sucker for compliments.

_This_ however irritated Vergil, and he placed his head on his hands on the table and rested, grumbling, yet still not putting any emotion into it, knowing that if his brother knew he was succeeding in annoying Vergil, it would get a whole lot worse.

The phone rang, and Vergil immediately seized it, being the only one not eating anything.

"Hello?" he stated.

There was a pause, the person on the other side obviously not wanting to waste time with unimportant greetings or other, having only time to tell Vergil what had to be said.

"Right, so we have to-"

The line went dead, the person on the other side slamming the phone down with a resounding crash.

"Who was that?" Tailor asked.

He turned to face them with a curious look on his face. "Someone speaking for the President. We have to go over to a research facility where they're dissecting some demons and looking at their weapons."

"When have we to the airport? And to where?"

"We haven't. We go by helicopter, and they're going to land outside. I'm not sure exactly where the place is."

"How long until?"

"A few hours. At around two."

"Great. Plenty of time."

A long while later, the four of them lay bored in Dante's office. Dante was half sitting, half lying on the chair by his desk, his feet up, Vergil on the comfy chair, Tailor leaning against a wall, and Trish sitting on Dante's desk. Every single one of them were staring at the phone, waiting for something to happen.

"Is this what business is always like for you?" Tailor asked, on the verge of a yawn.

"No…" Dante replied glumly "It went normally enough - _brilliantly_ a few weeks ago…but now, they have that Anti-Demon patrol for any business."

They all went silent for another while, their minds blank, the usual feeling that one associated with extended boredom. A red sphere of light went through the air, as if it was exploding. Then, it bound back into Dante's body. He let it loose again, then watching with interest as it went back into his body again.

On a normal occasion, Vergil would have told Dante to stop because he was irritating him, but at that moment he decided to let Dante be, and decided to do it himself, having nothing better to do either.

Dante looked around the wall of his office, still devil-triggering and going back to human form. Nah, he didn't feel like doing some swordplay. Then he realised that something was wrong.

"Where's Sparda?" he suddenly asked, rising.

"Gone," Vergil replied in a monotone "Force Edge and your amulet are on the floor."

"WHAT!" Dante barked "You have no respect for other people's property, Verge!"

Vergil shrugged and continued letting the blue light in and out of his body.

Dante sighed and let it go. He knew better than to argue with his brother, as he would get absolutely no response at all.

"How much longer until the chopper comes?"

Vergil looked at the clock on the wall. "Around half an hour"

Dante sighed again and sat back down, then returned to letting the light back in and out of him. It was strange how fascinating it was to him when he wasn't in battle, when he barely paid attention to it. He let his power loose again, then kept it that way. He got up again and looked in the mirror.

"Hey, Verge," he asked out of the blue.

"What now?"

"How come after every year or so, my devil side changes?"

"That's how demons work, my little brother. Humans stay almost the exact same throughout their growth, and it only takes 20-25 years to do so. Demons, on the other hand, are constantly changing in appearance, and it can take up to 60 years for them to fully grow, when their full abilities are unleashed."

"Oh…" Dante looked interestedly at his reflection, his voice seeming to echo in his own vocal chords and Tailor looked interestedly at Dante as well "…and I'm only younger than you by a few minutes, anyway."

He had black scales replacing his skin, like his father had, and his brother does, but the most of his body was covered by red, as his clothes had somehow changed form.

"Why do the clothes change?" he asked.

"Half-demons work slightly differently than full ones." Vergil replied indifferently "When we devil trigger, we create a small rift in the air around us, a much, much less powerful rift than ones created by the Teme-Ni-Gru or others. Just enough for you to become in demon form, that's why the air surrounding you blurs. Since this is all controlled by your mind, everything in the rift is in your control, whether you realise it or not, and…"

Vergil stopped, unsure of what to say next.

"And?" Dante pressed.

"I don't know," Vergil said simply "Maybe we sub-consciously use our minds to slightly alter the clothes we wear. We can't completely change clothes, I suppose, but we somehow change what we are wearing."

"Oh…" Dante said, as he continued inspecting his reflection.

His hair remained white, and two stumps were protruding from both sides of his forehead, where a pair of goat's horns were growing, once again, like his fathers. His eyes were glowing red, and the red clothing had two gaps in it at the back, where a pair of black, scaly wings were neatly folded. There was a hint of a transparent film starting to grow out of them, and he could feel a pair of small stumps beneath his wings, where it seemed a second pair were starting to grow. It looked like that in a few years, they would be like and insects, like Sparda's. His hands became claws, and he no longer wore boots, his black feet merely toughened, with a single small horn growing out of the back of it, like a shoe-knife.

He sat down, and started beating his wings about, chuckling like a little boy. Vergil rolled his eyes to heaven, as did Trish, while Tailor looked at Dante enviously, as if he wanted a pair of wings.

"How much longer now?" Trish asked exasperatedly, as Dante became hugely interested with the back of his claws.

Once again, Vergil looked up at the clock.

"Should have been here a minute or two ago."

"Oh…" Trish's head slumped. Dante chuckled in a schoolboy-tone as his foot became jammed in his desk, the horn impaled in it.

At last, after what seemed like ages, and after Dante had freed himself from his desk, a loud noise came from outside.

A minute or two after that, Tailor and the twins went out to get on the chopper. Trish didn't go, as she had no purpose or reason to.

The pilot saluted as he opened the door.

"Good morning, sirs. The flight will take about an hour or two."

"Thanks," Tailor said, saluting back, then getting on.

Dante looked around the interior. It was another _HellBane_, similar to the one that brought them back to New York.

Remembering what it was like last time, Dante nearly dived at the only comfortable chair inside, knowing all too well what the others felt like.

The other two seated themselves, and a moment or two later, the copter took off. They all took a while to admire the view as they ascended to the sky, looking at the skyscrapers and buildings deteriorating into nothingness as they flew off.

It took less than five minutes for Dante to get bored.

"Tell me again why we're going?" he asked irritably, hand supporting head.

"We have to watch the humans dissect the demons and look at their weapons." Vergil answered.

"And why am I going?" Tailor asked.

There was a silence as the twins paused for thought.

"… …Shut up." Dante replied eventually.

- - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Egypt. Earlier that day._

During the past few days, Joel had learned more and more about the plans the demons had at hand. He had to admit, it was all pretty damn impressive. Apparently, the pyramids themselves are only the tips of the icebergs, a much, much larger building. When everything was ready to go, the main Pyramid (the one they all were in) would split in quarters, and a machine of immense proportions would raise out of it. The machine was an obelisk of sorts, that would raise high into the sky. All the other pyramids would supply power to the obelisk, which it would convert to some sort of power beam. It would fire the beam precisely one hour after it was activated, which would burn go up into the earth's atmosphere and burn a hole, a rift between the two worlds. The beam fired from the obelisk would expand outwards, starting to burn a bigger and bigger hole, until it ran out of power. The hole would be a huge size by then, and would start growing even bigger and bigger by itself, until, days, maybe a week later, the entire earth was covered by it, the link between the worlds complete.

Joel heard footsteps from behind him, echoing, due to the size of the corridors and rooms of the place.

"Joel" a voice came.

"Yes, master?" he replied, turning to face his mentor and new guardian, Pontius.

"What are you doing over here by yourself? … … Come, you shouldn't wander around in here… … You could get lost, and not be able to find your way back… …it is a very big place in here."

They were both in a big chamber, filled with hieroglyphics and patterns on the walls, with large decorations filling it.

"Just looking around," Joel answered "I'm coming now.

He followed Pontius to the main chamber, where many of the demons were at their own business. Many of them were just chatting, others looking around. Some were having duels, with some onlookers cheering them on. Joel found Crìnge sitting at the top of the room on a sort of throne, looking slightly bored.

Crìnge's eyes darted up from staring at the ground and they rested on Pontius and his student.

"So…what's happening?" Joel asked interestedly "Have any more humans come to see what's happening? Have we to start working on anything?"

"No." Crìnge answered indifferently "We're finished with preparations. We're letting the humans be for the moment. They will cause no harm. They do not even know how to get into this place."

"Then…what are we waiting for?" Pontius asked "Surely, we could be starting by now?… …What good would come out of stalling?"

"We want to draw some attention," Crìnge replied "It will be more fun that way."

"But, do we not have enough attention already?" Joel said "I mean, more armed humans are arriving by the day. They suspect something. They're not _completely_ ignorant!"

"It's not enough," Crìnge said in response "I want them to send in much more. Some of the half-devils they have, maybe. Some higher ranking ones, maybe even those two… And, more importantly, Tele…what do you call that thing? Those recording devices? Some of the 'News' people over to broadcast the scene. Let them to bring humans for the whole human world know what's happening, draw all the race's attention to us, I want them all have their eyes on us when we cause their world's downfall -"

"You're rambling, Crìnge," Pontius stated.

"Excuse me, then," Crìnge apologised.

Pontius didn't show it, but he radiated excitement. Joel learned how to tell his feelings by now. And, Joel too felt excited. They were almost done, and soon they would be in command… and when he was old enough, he, Joel, would be one of the main rulers of them all.

"Crìnge!" a devil suddenly came to their presence.

"What is it?" Crìnge replied.

"We have bad news. Very, very bad news."

"Well, out with it!" Crìnge stated, now looking apprehensive.

"We can't get any more troops over. The small link we once had has been shut. We would be lucky to even get a Hell Pride over to this side at the moment."

"How did this happen!" Pontius barked "…What blunder was committed!

"We're not sure," the devil answered grimly "But the only link that was still active a few moments ago was Sparda's sword. Someone must have managed to separate the amulets."

The diamond appeared on Crìnge's forehead and flashed red in anger. He stood up and put his fingers to his eyes, trying to remain calm.

"… … okay…What troops do we have operational at the moment? We will have to do with what we already have."

"We have the average type demons everywhere," Pontius answered for the devil "… We have millions everywhere. There must be several billion in this country alone... … But, none of them are our main fighters… mostly lower to middle class…"

Crìnge suddenly looked hopeful.

"And, what of our army? We created a good deal more after that incident at Vie De Marli."

"Around five thousand," the devil stated "But, without any link, we cannot create any more."

"It will do. Thank you for the warning, Ghoul." Crìnge said.

The devil smiled and walked off.

Joel looked at Crìnge with uncertainty. "Ghoul?"

"Yes. That is his name." then, Crìnge turned to face him "You are wondering why he has the same name as those demons? He is not named after him. They are named after him. He was the one who first created them, and decided to name them after himself. Look-" he said, as Ghoul walked through a wall, exiting the room.

"Aack!" came a cry from across the room. They turned to look as a devil fell to his knees, before his friend, surrounded by others. The friend raised his hand in triumph.

"Looks like they have a winner…" Pontius stated.

Joel's eyes brightened as another competitor was chosen. Crìnge noticed it.

"You would like to fight, would you?"

Joel looked like he was about to say yes, then his expression changed and he shook his head.

"Why not?" Pontius asked "You wouldn't get seriously hurt, it's just a small little duel… …A challenge between friends."

Still, Joel shook his head.

"I never finished my training back at home. I never even got my own weapon."

"Oh," Crìnge and Pontius exchanged glances.

"Well," Crìnge said after a pause "It will be your mentor's job to teach you, right Pontius?"

Pontius rubbed his hands together to signal his delight, being unable to smile.

"Of course. No matter who taught you at that island… … they will not have been able to teach you the techniques I can!"

Joel froze for a second. It had been his father that trained him. He said nothing for a while, then nodded and gave a half-hearted grin. He would have to accept Pontius as his new father. Andrè was a man who fought for the weak, for those who did not deserve it. Pontius had the right ideas… he thought to himself grimly. And he would have to accept him as a new father eventually, as he was his mentor and his only guardian.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dante was asleep when they started their descent. The copter was coming down over a large building surrounded by barbed wire, in the middle of the desert. There were many military vehicles aligned in rows outside, and a few other helicopters in designated 'H' spots that circled the main building.

Tailor nudged Dante awake and pointed out the window to signal that they were almost there. Dante gave a loud yawn and stretched, then took in what he was seeing.

To him it seemed more of a military base than a laboratory. There were the usual defences; guards situated at the gate to check vehicles coming in and out, large lighthouse-like towers that would act as lights during night-time, looking over the grounds, with gun turrets planted on them for security.

The _HellBane_ landed on the single free 'H' spot, and the door was opened for them.

They were greeted by two armed soldiers, who would lead them inside. Dante looked around in greater detail than in the copter. The place was almost deserted, apart from themselves and the two soldiers (and the guards at the gate). He asked about it.

"Most security's been moved inside." explained one of the soldiers "Not taking any chances. More will be coming soon for extra measure."

Dante nodded and continued surveying the place. Then, he saw it. The huge hulking figure of Air Force One, the immense jet bearing the Presidential seal.

"He's inside already, then, the President?" Dante asked.

The soldier nodded the affirmative.

They came to a halt.

"Problems?" Tailor asked.

"We're afraid we cannot allow you to bring weaponry inside," one of them said "Leave them all with us, you will receive them when you leave."

Vergil's hand immediately went straight to his beloved katana and he glared at them, as if daring them to come and get it. They didn't come closer.

Dante and Tailor, however, grumbled and handed over Ebony, Ivory and Tailor's handgun, which he kept in his jacket.

"Sir, your sword will have to come too."

Dante laughed as he shook his head. (He currently had Alastor on his back)

"For your own sakes I'd rather not."

"Sir!" A soldier said, then he reached for Alastor.

The sword crackled threateningly, electricity suddenly flowing through it.

The two looked at it for a moment.

"You may enter," one finally said.

The walked in through the front entrance and several corridors without speak. They all seemed to blend into another, no decorations, no paint other than white, with spotless black tiles. Their feet made the only sounds against the floor as they progressed. Now and then there would be a door or two that apparently held an office for the higher class workers in the place. Finally, after a short while, the soldiers led them through a large pair of glass automatic double-doors.

President Raelson and some others stood to greet them. The soldiers saluted and marched off.

"Ah," Raelson stated, smiling as he offered his hand in turn to the twins "The pair themselves. Thank you for coming."

Vergil was about to comment that they didn't have any choice on the matter, but kept silent and expressionlessly shook the Presidents hand, breaking his normal rule of never touching anyone unless with a blade.

Raelson turned to Tailor, who saluted immediately.

"General David Tailor, sir," he stated.

Raelson smiled and signalled for Tailor to put his hand down, and shook hands with him.

Being the President, Raelson must have long learned to give a convincing smile without meaning it, Vergil thought, still with an unchanging expression, like his old self. For the past while, he had forgotten himself and shown emotions. He had to get back into old habits.

Raelson stepped to the side and introduced the two people to his side.

Bayle shook their hands as well, but gave them all the expression that suggested that she honestly disliked them. No smiles there.

"This is my Senior Secretary, Ms. Bayle," Raelson explained, and this person here is-"

"General Granson," Tailor stated "We've met."

Granson looked surprised for about a second, then smiled and shook Tailor's hand. "Tailor, huh. Been keeping well I see…"

He then turned and looked at the twins, his smile faltering for a small moment, then he remembered himself and faked a smile and grasped their hands in turn.

"General Granson, sirs. Pleased to meet you."

His manner and his tone suggested everything to the contrary, and the fact that he tried to crush their hands didn't help. The twins could have flattened his without effort if they wanted to, but it was better they didn't.

A third person in white uniform stood by the door patiently and silently.

"This man here is going to lead us to the lab," Raelson said, "Now that the introductions are done, I suppose we should head to the centre of the action?"

Tailor and the twins nodded in response. Granson opened the door and let the President, Bayle, and the other man out, then followed, letting the three open it for themselves and to follow.

"You know him?" Dante asked Tailor quietly as the followed the four ahead.

"Yeah. Used to be my commanding officer years ago. A bastard if I ever saw one."

Dante laughed and Vergil gave a meek curl of the lips.

They walked through several more corridors, earning a 'How big is this goddamn place?' from Dante. No one responded.

After progressing to what seemed like the other side of the building, they went down a flight of steps that went to a basement floor. Immediately after the stairs ended, they came to a metal double-door. The uniformed man took a card out of his shirt and placed it into a slot on the wall beside the doors. The doors slid open.

The corridors were no longer white with black floors. Everything here was grey and metal. Every few steps there would be doors on either side of the hall, they too were metal, with a slot for card entry beside them. A small rectangle of glass was at the top of the doors, like in hospitals. They were all labelled, one was called B-7, and the one next to it B-8, for example.

"Upstairs houses the offices and sleeping quarters, formal places and mess halls." Granson grunted "Down here is where the actual research happens. Inside all of these doors are labs, every single one looking at different things."

"Like what?" Dante asked.

"Not your business." Granson said "Maybe you'll find out sometime. Don't know myself, actually."

"I can see what you mean" Dante murmured to Tailor, after elbowing him when Granson wasn't looking.

At last, they came to another pair of double doors, at the very end of the hall. Two cameras suddenly pointed to their direction. Tailor could see a small piece of metal on top of them with a part jutting out, and a laser sight coming out of a piece just below it.

"These have way more security," the man in white said "No cards or anything here. Those cameras have firepower to keep intruders away. The guards working at the cameras of the place operate those doors. When someone comes, they zoom in and the camera identifies them for the guards. A profile clear with picture shows up on screen, and on it says whether they have authorisation to enter."

As he said that, the doors snapped open. They all entered.

The three lost their breath at what they saw.

"Holy…" Dante gasped.

They were in a massive circular room, with a large glass circle separating it into a doughnut-like room. On the outer ring of the circle there was loads of machinery, and seats. The outer ring was obviously just an observational ring.

On the inner ring, however, there were several operating tables, like those found in hospitals. On most of them was a demon, but others were left bare if not for a golden, yellowish substance.

A scientist wearing a surgeon's uniform walked over to them, beaming. He pulled down the half-mask and was held out his hand, and was about to introduce himself when Raelson did it for him.

"This is the man in charge here, Professor Harris Gray."

They took his hand one by one and shook it.

"No need to introduce yourselves!" he exclaimed excitedly "I mean, everyone knows who you are!"

Dante got the sudden impression that this was a man that he would under other circumstances call a geek. Most likely kept in here most of his life and in terrible physical condition. He was heavily bespectacled, his hair went down to the top of his clothes, and was almost literally a bush.

"Well, Mr. Gray," Bayle said "How are things progressing?"

His expression changed drastically to almost glum.

"Not so well," he said. He turned and pointed to the tables with the yellow substance on them, which Dante now recognised as sand.

"The two hooded ones exploded into sand the moment we opened them up. There was nothing to see…" his expression changed once again to almost irritated "It doesn't make sense, though! How could a being made entirely of sand go around killing people! You don't see sand castles committing homicide, do you? -"

He was about to continue, but Dante interrupted.

"I can answer that. Those demons never lived by their own life force. They never had any. Y'see, the higher-up devil that made them in the first place gave them a sort of power to do what they were told."

Gray looked confused.

"That can't be right! How could a living being possibly grant another life power without reproduction! I mean, what sort of power could it possibly give? Nuclear? I Highly doubt that. Nothing fits. Magnetic power, kinetic, light, heat or any of the others wouldn't work, so how -"

"This is where the human science fails," Vergil butted in "They fail to recognise the real power. Demons have many different kinds of powers at their disposal, that no human has probably even seen until these times. Battle, impenetrable light that prevents attacks, transporting…"

"Ok, I'll stop you there," Granson said "Can we please just keep going on with what's happening? I don't need a lecture right about now. Gray, what about the others? What did you find out about them?"

Gray looked a little happier and regained his excited appearance.

"Apart from that puppet thing - it was made completely out of a block of wood - we haven't done too much else. We've only got the things since this morning, and you have to be careful. But, the lizard one was a brilliant success! It's organs are almost completely similar to that of a normal reptile! The only real differences were…"

"Yes?" Bayle said hopefully.

"Tougher hide, of course. The heart was much bigger, and had a whole extra section on it. We're guessing it's to make extra blood quickly, because we found an interesting thing at their claws… … The arteries split into two. The first led the blood to a vein, of course, but the other went right up to their knuckles and ended at a clod of skin that was surrounded by muscle. It seems that they are able to use the muscle to move the skin clod… but it doesn't make sense!"

"Why?" Vergil said slyly, knowing most of this already.

"Opening the skin would only make them bleed! What purpose would that have! It's not a good defence mechanism, as any animal that hunts it would only be attracted to the smell!"

"Think," Dante said, having an answer ready "How big was that artery stump?"

"Pretty big, I suppose…" Gray trailed off.

"And what do you think would happen if the lizard made blood continuously flow into it?"

"Well…with the stump that big… … it would all start pressurising…"

"And then what would happen if it opened up the skin?"

"The blood would fire out… … but, of course! And then the extra large heart would quickly reproduce the blood for it… but how did you know that?"

"I killed plenty of the buggers." Dante replied with a grin "And learned about that blood thing the hard way. Lucky my coat was red or it would've stained…"

"Ahem," Vergil interrupted, preventing Dante from trailing off.

"Right. And what about the other two?"

"We've barely touched them," Gray said "Lucky you're here, you can watch us!"

"Yeah, lucky…" Tailor grumbled.

Gray didn't notice and continued grinning, then put the half mask back over his mouth.

"No time like the present!" he announced in a muffled tone.

After about ten minutes of getting his team ready, Gray flicked on the huge light to illuminate the demons completely. He nodded to the doctors and scientists around him in the inner circle (The others watched on from behind the large glass). They all focused on one of them. They would take this one at a time. A doctor approached the huge headwear covering the demon's head and face. He cut his fingers and curse loudly.

Gray laughed and took out two tools that looked strangely like pliers, and gripped them on both sides of the demon's head and gently pulled the mask off, then placed it on the table.

There were some gasps from the weaker hearted people present as they looked at the demon's face. It was almost completely like a human's, except where the eyes should have been there was smooth skin. The nose was extremely short and narrow, barely going half an inch away from the face. The lips were black and had small blisters on it, due to lack of water and the heat of the desert on which it was captured. It had no hair whatsoever, and, of course, no Adam's apple.

"I can see why they were those masks…" Tailor muttered to Dante, who nodded, his mouth agape.

The demon was stripped of all spiked armour, gauntlets, vanguards and all, then the linen shirt and shorts. It's chest had plenty of muscle covering it, a 'six pack' plus more on it. It's arms had bulging biceps, more than any had seen on a regular person, and almost every other part of it's body where muscle could fit was covered. The only thing that made it stand out from a human's body was the lack of any genitals.

Then, they put the knife into it's chest.

Dante, Tailor and Bayle looked away, having no intention to look. Vergil remained indifferent, not showing any emotion as usual while watching. Granson and Raelson endured watching with grimaced faces.

After a half an hour the operation stopped. Gray and other washed their hands and they all agreed. It was almost exactly a humans body, save the face and the piles of extra muscle.

Gray returned to them without any expression, his professional side coming out.

"Well," he said "Nothing special. No point in looking at the other one, it's the same breed."

"You're sure you looked at everything?" Raelson asked, looking disappointed "Nothing remotely unexpected?"

"Nothing."

Dante and Vergil exchanged glances. Until that moment, they had not known of a single demon that was unique in some way. It seemed like every demon _had_ to be different in some way. It seemed highly unlikely that the enemy would choose a completely normal demon without any powers as their main soldier for the war.

"What about their helmet?" Dante asked "What about that?"

"It was strange enough, but not enough to label as 'magic' or anything. It kinda reminded me of a psycho mask. The front part, anyway. It had a bunch of holes for the thing to breath through, and two for it's nose. Of course, just flat metal where the eyes should have been. The only difference was that was black, and that it covered it's entire head. The back had countless spikes - black as well - that pointed downwards, like spiky hair. Nothing else, apart from the chain mail that came out of it to protect it's neck."

"Nothing else? No marks on the skin or anything? No signs or anything at all?"

"Just a tattoo. On it's right arm on the upper bicep. The armour stops just above to show it."

"Maybe for good reason." Vergil stated, having never turned to face Gray when he came "I suggest you check it."

"What!" the real Gray shone out again "Go back into operation just because we didn't study his tattoo? No!"

"It's a demon. Anything could mean everything. Go back and check it," Vergil said.

"No, it'll be a waste of time!" Gray argued "And look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Vergil sighed and turned to glare at Gray. "I know what I'm talking about, Gray, you had better check the thing."

Gray turned to the others, looking for their opinion.

Raelson nodded, feeling that Vergil might be on to something.

Gray went speechless for a moment, then sighed heavily. He turned to the rest of the room and yelled; "Okay, get your gear back on, people! We're going back in!"

There were some grumbles and even a few moans, but they all did as they were ordered.

"I still think that this is a waste of time…" Gray grumbled "But no… if we left now, we could get to lunch first…"

Nobody listened.

After a few minutes, the team was back in the inner circle and fixing their gloves on.

"Alright, folks," Gray called out "Let's make this quick, lunch will be served soon."

He went up to the demon they hadn't touched yet (the other one had been taken out) and took off the armour and clothing.

"Hang on," he said "This one has a different gauntlet. Not that it matters… but just in case…"

He got someone to take it to the lab where they were inspecting the demon weaponry. He turned to face his subject, then took another look at the demon's malformed face. He froze.

"Did anyone notice the lump below this one's throat?" he asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Right, we'll sort that out later, first the tattoo…"

He inspected it. Nothing strange. A circle with patterns, and a burning blade in the centre. He reached out and touched it with his gloved hand.

Nothing.

He turned to look at the twins and the others through the glass with a smug expression.

He turned back to the doctors and scientists.

"All right, get your gear ready… I expect they'll want us to dissect it next, to them it's a matter of wasting time…" he announced, dimming to a murmur.

Then, the unexpected happened; the tattoo let out a bright green light, turning everything around it a bright shade of green. Gray and the others shielded their eyes.

"What the hell?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Egypt. That Moment._

Pontius halted. He had felt something strange. Strange, but he knew exactly what it was.

"Sir?" Joel asked cautiously.

They were in a chamber away from the rest. Joel was gripping a small sword and was in a stance that Pontius had just shown him.

"I will continue your training some other time…" Pontius announced "… … for now, there is something important I must tend to."

Joel struggled to hide his relief. He didn't exactly hate training, but his muscles ached, he felt tired, and waiting for Pontius to start a new sentence wasn't the most exciting pastime ever.

As Pontius left the chamber, Joel sighed and rested against the wall.

Pontius hurried to the chamber that most of the order were in.

He found Crìnge among the crowd watching the latest duel.

"Crìnge," he called out. Crìnge turned in his direction "…we have, yet another problem."

Crìnge looked almost irritated as he came over to Pontius' side, out of earshot of the others.

"What now?" he asked, almost exasperatedly.

"I don't know where or how… … but the humans have one of our soldiers."

"How do you know this?" He asked quietly.

"It is one of the 'captain' demons I made… …one of those capable of speech."

Crìnge looked thoughtful for a second then stated;

"Of course. We kept a tracker on them… … I suppose you made the tracker tell you where they were, rather than anyone else?"

"That one, at least… … but, what will we do?"

"I don't know. But we have to do something, we're on a shortage of soldiers at the moment… and we need to keep care of any we already have…well, first of all, you may as well enable it to speak human languages…"

He paused for a second, busy in his own thoughts. Suddenly, a mischievous glint came into his eyes. He grinned.

"Give 'em hell. Trigger the thing."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

During the while that Pontius and Crìnge discussed the course of action, Gray and his team had cut open the skin under the tattoo to find nothing unusual at all. The light must have come from the tattoo itself, which seemed impossible.

The scientist that had been sent to bring the extra gauntlet of the demon to the weapon research had come back, and was shocked to find what they had discovered about the tattoo. She immediately put on her half mask and joined the rest.

"Right," Gray stated "Let's just sew up the skin and we'll look at the rest of this thing. It's different to the other one… it has an Adam's apple, which means that it has vocal chords. Let's see what else there is."

After the skin on the arm was replaced, Gray went to the chest with his knife, ready to open up yet another demon.

That's when it happened.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly the demon had red electricity flowing around it's body. Gray jumped, startled. He glanced back at the others, who all had shocked expressions, many of their jaws dropped.

"Alright, buddy," Gray muttered as he went over to the demon again "That won't work. We're still gonna cut you up."

Some people behind him laughed and relaxed a little. Others still looked slightly scared.

Then, just before the knife came into contact with the body, the demon's eyes sprang open.

Unfortunately, Gray wasn't looking at the eyes and made a small cut in the demons abdomen.

With a roar the demon grabbed Gray by the neck. Gray tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle. The red electricity came to close to comfort to him, and sweat was almost pouring out of him.

He watched with amazement as the cut he inflicted started to close in.

By then, guards were streaming in, all heavily armed. The scientists and doctors merely watched in horror as they kept out of arms reach of the demon.

But, still, out of arms reach was still not out of harms reach.

The guards pointed at the demon when it brought Gray up to shield it. The guards halted.

At this point, Dante and Vergil were speeding towards the entrance of the inner circle, swords drawn.

Suddenly and slowly the demon let out an eerie sound that was unmistakable as a laugh.

It pointed to Gray and signalled, with it's free hand, a sideways motion that obviously meant that it was going to kill Gray.

"…Put down your weapons," it croaked.

There was a pause for a moment or two. Although they had clearly seen Gray discover the vocal chords, they were amazed at the demon's speech.

Slowly, the guards put down their firearms. But, the demon could see Dante and Vergil at the entrance.

"You too." he barked simply.

The twins exchanged glances. They had never found themselves in a situation like this. This was the first intelligent regular demon they had encountered.

"**_I SAID PUT THEM DOWN_**!" the demon roared, and Gray winced.

Dante glared at the demon for a while, before placing Alastor slowly on the ground. Vergil looked at the demon with disbelief for a whole ten seconds before placing Yamato gently on the ground.

The demon slowly strode over to where it's armour was discarded. Bit by bit, it placed the linen clothing and armour on, pausing now and then to look at the guards and the twins, searching thoroughly for any signs of movement towards their weaponry.

"My blade," it spoke.

Gray made a choking noise. The demon loosened the grip.

"It's not here…" Gray paused for breath "…it's in a different lab."

The demon seemed to growl at this. Gray whimpered.

After tightening it's grip on Gray again, the demon placed it's left gauntlet back on, the one that hadn't been taken off.

It looked back at the guards to glare at them and make a demand when it noticed something. The one cloaked in blue was no longer there. Sensing something behind it, it swerved quickly to face Vergil, behind him, fist clenched.

"Back off, human!" it threatened "Or this one dies!"

Vergil seemed highly offended at this remark. He glared at the thing for a second, then spoke.

"Watch who you call human, scum."

The demon laughed, sounding not to far from a choking sound.

"You are in no condition to call me anything, weakling!"

It tightened it's grip on Gray's neck for emphasis. Gray gurgled for a while, until his eyes slowly closed.

The demon noticed this, then growled out of contempt for the human, then hurled the body at the guards. Before anyone could react, the demon seized Vergil by the neck and tried to use him as a new hostage.

"Pathetic human." it growled "Couldn't even resist slight pressure on the neck."

If the demon had held Vergil for them to be face-to-face, he would have noticed Vergil give a rare smirk.

There was a blue flash of light, pushing the demon back from Vergil, then Vergil rushed at it and gave it a full-bodied tackle, knocking the both of them into the glass wall surrounding the inner circle.

The guards all retrieved their weapons of the floor, as did Dante, and opened fire on the demon.

Vergil recovered from the impact of the glass, then pinned the demon down and started beating it across the face.

The demon, being in a 'triggered' form, and being a captain of it's kind, managed to kangaroo-kick Vergil off, who landed neatly on his feet.

The demon inspected it's opponent. Thinking quickly, it dashed towards the group of scientists and doctors that were fearfully watching, dodging bullets the whole way. It picked a doctor up with both hands and held it high over it's head, then flung the shrieking person at his attacker.

Vergil leaped up to try and catch the person. Skilfully grasping the person, he landed on his feet and let the person down. The demon immediately grabbed him from behind, then slammed him into the ground, pinned him down, and was about to pummel him with it's gauntlets when it felt a blade at the back of it's neck.

"Get up. Don't even think of trying anything. You do and I won't hesitate in killing you." a voice came.

The demon obediently rose and stood. Vergil rose from the ground and let the blue sphere of light bind into his body.

Dante kept Alastor pointed at the thing as he stepped round to face the demon. He smirked at the glare the demon gave him.

"You really should have kept a nice boy and stayed where you were," he taunted, bringing Alastor up to the demon's throat.

The demon quit glaring at him, and it was slowly replaced by a glance filled with thought.

"You two are no humans. What are you?"

Dante laughed loudly at this comment. He turned to smile at the guards who were watching with shock.

"Why does it always seem that they learn only after they get their face beaten in?"

The demon, seizing it's chance, quickly took a step back from Alastor, as Dante's guard dropped, then sweep kicked him off his feet.

Dante landed hard on his back. The demon grabbed Alastor, which was in the air, after Dante dropped it as he fell.

"Stay right where you are…" the demon growled, then baring it's teeth in what looked like a distorted smile "…like a nice boy."

Then, something completely unexpected happened. Alastor started sparkling, even more so than usual, then zoomed out of the demon's grip, spun a few times, then impaled the demon through the chest.

"Oh, yeah, I should've mentioned," Dante laughed as he got to his feet "My sword likes to impale people before it decides it likes them."

The demon gurgled a few times, unable to respond. Dante gripped Alastor, picked it out of the demon's body, and, before it could rise, he brought it swiftly back down onto the demon's neck.

There was a horrible scream of anguish, before the demon started to quickly decompose.

Dante looked up through the glass, to where Raelson, Bayle and Granson were.

Suddenly none of them had a doubt that Dante and Vergil were as they said they were.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Joe: No, don't worry, this isn't another paragraph. It's the end of it. _

_That's it, breath easy._

_Feels nice? Must feel like you want an award for just finishing the damned thing._

_I know I do._

_Yes, yes, it took a hell of a long time for me to update, but, it's big. That's an excuse, isn't it?_

_Oh, and I'm really, really sorry about not replying to any reviews. I never really found much time._

_So, the next chapter will most likely not come up for a long time. It won't be as long as this…_

_Seriously, this thing was over three times bigger than my first chapter._

_Well, _

_Ciao._


	15. Duty Calls

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything here. Well, I kinda own the OCs, but I've no copyright lawyers or anything like that. I don't own Devil May Cry, or anything featured that's copyrighted._

_Joe: Yeah, I know, I know, timing for this chapter was terrible._

_It can't be helped._

_Oh, and huge thanks for the reviews. Much appreciated._

_It's good to know that people don't think that this is perfect. Constructive advice is always welcome._

_Not to say that people who do think this is good should be offended. I meant nothing harmful._

_Well, this is going to be shorter than the last (obviously), because it took up too much goddamn time to write it._

_Well, this one didn't exactly take a short while, either, but that was because I was too laz…_

_Busy._

_(Coughs)_

_And, even though there seems to be enough OCs, more will be added. They're essential, so you'll have to put up with them._

_Oh, and since the update was so late, a good few things have happened since my last update. Since I started this ages ago and already have a plot, there **will be nothing in here regarding DMC4 or any new characters, or any new chunks of the twins past revealed from it.**_

_So, here we go._

* * *

"Okay, okay, I think I get the main picture now," Granson grunted in his deep baritone voice "But, tell me this, smartass, how in the blue _hell_ did that bastard suddenly become conscious? What was with all that red electricity shit?"

Dante, Vergil, Tailor, Bayle, Raelson, Granson, and a large selection of medical scientists and doctors were gathered in a kind of lounge-like place.

Dante, who was leaning against the wall with his head bowed, answered, not bothering to look up;

"It devil triggered."

Granson gave Dante a curious look, bushy eyebrow raised.

"And, pray tell, what the hell that means?"

"This" was Dante's simple reply as a red sphere of light exploded from his form, which was now a devil-like being.

He raised his head to wink at Tailor, who had caught his eye, and smirk at Granson's expression as he regained his human appearance.

"Oh…" the General exclaimed, shocked almost to silence.

"But, how did that suddenly make it wake?"

"It gave it strength," Vergil answered, who was seated on a leathery couch apart from the others "And slowly revitalised it. The anaesthetic wouldn't have any affect on it anymore."

"So," Raelson stated, looking glum again, for the umpteenth time that day "Did any good whatsoever come out of this at all? I mean, we got barely any good out of looking at them, and our chief scientist is in the emergency room!"

"Will he live?" Bayle asked nervously "What are the problems?"

"Severe pressure was applied to his throat," a doctor answered "It almost completely shut the link between the lungs and trachea. We're amazed that he's still alive."

"Ah."

There was a pause for a short while.

"I suppose this is going to be a disaster for you, sir," Bayle said to Raelson.

He nodded, deciding not to comment.

"What?" Dante asked.

"Election is coming up," she explained "Larimore, his main rival, seems to be using all this to get votes. And it looks like it's working."

"But, that doesn't make sense," Vergil stated "None of this is Raelson's fault. Larimore couldn't possibly blame him for it all. And-" he added, his eyes scanning the room "I can't see why people want Raelson out of the office for actually doing something about the situation."

Guilty faces looked back. Raelson replied;

"Most of the country don't believe this. They see me as a gullible old fool, and you two as two freaks that managed to convince me."

"_What_?" Dante barked in disbelief "Idiots! About a quarter of the population of New York has been slaughtered, and the rest hiding in fear - and I bet that other cities are similar. How could others not believe this?"

"They saw footage of demons on TV!" Tailor exclaimed, speaking for the first time "What did they make of that?"

"We don't know…" Raelson said "All we know is that the main population of the country are in disbelief. It appears that the demons are only sighted in the larger areas where more people are - mainly cities. Anybody living outside the cities don't believe us."

"So, word mustn't get out that this was a failure," Bayle concluded "It would completely destroy any chances of the President getting through this election."

"Wait, it couldn't have been completely useless," Tailor said "What about the demon's weaponry and technology? Surely, if we figure out a weakness in them, this would be a huge success?"

"True," a scientist by the side said "…Er…I suppose you want to see the progress?"

"Absolutely" Vergil said emotionlessly as he stood up; a signal for the others to follow suit "Lead us to the place."

With a sigh, the scientist led the way back underground and into the long, dark corridor.

Dante, Vergil, Tailor, Granson and Bayle followed.

He opened a door in the middle of the corridor, which, it turned out, led into another long metal corridor. After a few minutes walk, they ended up beside laboratory 23-C.

He inserted a card key into a slot by the door. With a swishing sound, the door slid open. He stood to the side as they all entered.

The lab was completely different from the other one, which was the highest security medical room. This was just one of the many small and largely forgotten labs that littered the place.

Dante whistled as he stepped in and started slowly walking around. He was in his area of expertise; placed on benches in the room were demonic weapons and technology of various sizes.

There were the few scientists scattered around the room, contrasting to the large amount of doctors and medical scientists rushing around from the last lab.

A large scientist looked up from his work to look at them as they all entered.

He gave a large beam and stood to greet them.

Tailor couldn't help smiling as he accepted the offered hand and shook. Although Gray was cheery enough, this man was a lot more jolly and the like.

He was fairly chubby, but had the distinct smell of deodorant of him; at least he tried, unlike the many other scientists here, to keep hygienic.

His hairstyle was different, too. Unlike the wild, bushy mane that Gray had sported, this man kept his in short, cleanly kept spiky bristles.

"Nice to meet you," the man stated in a distinct English accent "The name's John, by the way, John Smith."

"Tailor"

"Dante"

"None of your busine - fine - Vergil" Vergil said, after receiving an elbow to the ribs by Dante.

"Well, as you can see around here," John said, gesturing around the room "We've been having a lot of fun lately…"

They could see what he meant. Along the rows of benches were several suits of armour, scythes, staffs, helmets and the likes in scattered pieces, many of them sliced neatly in halves or quarters to see if anything special lay inside (A tremendous electronic saw lay in one corner of the room).

One of the few articles that still lay in one piece was the gauntlet that Dante recognised as the one that Gray had taken off.

John noticed Dante looking.

"It's the same as the others. Only difference is a green jewel in the palm. Don't see how they thought it would help in battle, but…"

"Maybe it's to show the thing's rank?" Tailor suggested.

"That's what I thought," John said in agreement "But I got orders to never trust anything. Apparently we've to pay close attention to anything remotely strange, or something, but it all seems a bit over the top to me."

"And so it should be that way. Demonic jewels aren't the same as the ones found in the human realm," Vergil stated "Have you touched it?"

"No," John replied "Didn't really find it really important. Never touched this glove at all. I could see from the start that there was nothing different."

"I'm not an expert on the subject here," Granson spoke, saying something for the first time in a while "But I'd say that Vergil could be right. We thought the same thing about the second demon."

"Right, fine, whatever you say," Smith sighed "I can see what the others said about time-wasting…"

They all ignored him.

He placed rubber gloves on his hand, then turned to the gauntlet.

"Maybe you should poke it with something, instead," Dante suggested "It could actually be a weapon for all we know."

Smith nodded, and took the nearest utensil and poked the jewel.

Unlike the last time, they did not have to wait long for anything to happen.

A brilliant green light omitted from the jewel, making the room a shade of emerald.

"Holy shit…" Granson gasped.

Apart from that, they were all silent until the light went out.

"It's just a torch!" Bayle exclaimed "All that for nothing!"

"No," Dante disagreed "Demons wouldn't make torches. They've no use for them. Demons can see in the dark."

Vergil nodded, looking slightly disappointed that Dante made the statement and not him for once.

"Well, when the light came on, the entire gauntlet seemed to glow green," Tailor said "It could just be to increase melee combat efficiency."

This seemed plausible enough for Dante, but Vergil still eyed the gauntlet with suspicion.

"Possibly. But, for the moment, we don't know for sure. I really don't think that -"

A loud beeping noise came from nowhere.

Granson swore loudly, then reached inside his pocket.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said to the others as he brought a phone out of his pocket.

Smith handed him a card to reopen the door, then Granson went outside the lab.

"Hello?" he grunted when he had gone outside.

"Good day, General. This is Paul Defoe. I'm here to tell you some urgent news."

"They had better be urgent, I'm busy," Granson responded with annoyance "How did you get this number? This is my private mobile."

"I understand your dismay, sir, but you must hear this."

"I don't remember any Paul Defoe," Granson butted in "Who are you?"

"I was the one who first told you about the losses in Egypt, sir. In the Pentagon, do you remember?"

Granson paused for a moment.

"Yeah, I remember you," he replied after a while "Continue."

"Well sir, there's been a raid on our camp outside Cairo. The demons have assaulted our troops in the night. The person who reported the situation himself was killed halfway through telling Intel what happened."

"What?! Is there anybody alive?!"

"None have been accounted for, at least, sir. If any _did_ survive, they were taken captive and brought off. There were only dead bodies littering the base, according to a clean-up party."

"Damn it… Why isn't this happening to any of the troops from Egypt? Or to any of the troops the other countries are providing?"

"You misunderstand me, sir, all of the bases were swept out. America isn't the only country suffering. Far worse is the Egyptians."

"Right, so what will we do about it?"

"It's your call, General. You're the one in charge of the Egypt operation. Where are you at the moment?"

"In the Class-5-I Research Institution."

"Ah, yes, sir. I'm beside some officials here, whatever option you take now will be done right away. What do you suggest?"

Granson paused a second time, leaning against the wall. If his cigarettes hadn't been confiscated on the way in, he would be smoking right now.

"…Get the best we can offer over there. I want these bastards taken out as soon as possible. You know what I'm taking about, Navy SEALs, marines, even get some of those Guardians over there. I might give Egypt a visit myself…"

"Anything else, sir?" Paul asked politely.

"I think that we're going to have to go all out here. I think I'll ask the Sparda twins for their cooperation."

"The Sparda twins?" Paul asked, half laughing "If I recall not two days ago, you were calling them a pair of albino bas-"

"I know what I said! And I take it all back. Get a chopper over here ASAP, and call again in half an hour. The pair might have a few ideas of their own that need airing."

Paul sounded disbelieving.

"Ideas of their own? If you ask me, I think that they'll-"

"Well, I'm _not_ asking you. You're to do as you're ordered! Call again in half an hour!"

Granson hung up.

Sighing heavily, he inserted Smith's card into the slot by the door. It opened.

He cleared his throat to grab everyone's attention.

After handing Smith back his card, Granson turned to the twins and said:

"I was going to said this later, but things have gotten out of hand. We need you two on another mission."

Bayle gave him a curious look, knowing full well what was going on. The twins said nothing. Granson continued.

"The mission is in Egypt. You see, a short while ago, to go along with the treaty signed, we sent troops over to Egypt. And, ever since, more and more men have gotten slaughtered by demons. We sent more and more in an attempt to clear them out of the sector, but the demon activity in that area seemed strange. And now, I mean, last night, all of the soldiers sent over from all over the world were swept out of the area in a large sweep. If that wasn't enough, but this is all happening in one area; outside Cairo, at the Pyramids."

Vergil sprang to attention at those final words. He seemed to know something the others didn't.

"The Pyramids?" he asked.

Granson nodded.

"Then, you've been wasting time for days now! The demons must have been gathering there for a reason. They're going to use the pyramids to open up the seal to the two worlds."

They all stared at Vergil curiously.

"You know this how?" Bayle asked.

"I spent most of my conscious life studying demonic literature and weaponry," he responded "The pyramids were one of the gateways to the demon realm."

"Then how come nothing happened before this?" Tailor queried "I mean, if they open up the demon realm, how come nothing happened when archaeologists and historians studied the pyramids?"

"They weren't activated" Vergil answered simply "And don't ask any more. I only know their purpose, I don't know how to work them or anything."

"Right, but, back to the point," Granson "We need you two on the mission. In fact, we need anybody we can get!"

"You do realise that I'm coming too?" Tailor interrupted "You're not gonna force me to stay behind!"

"No," Granson said, with an unexpected smile "As I said, we need everybody we can get. You are a General, and of course good enough material for the mission."

"So, all you're looking for is good enough fighters?" Dante asked "No problem. I know plenty of demon hunters that would be willing to go. Just drop us off to New York first. In fact, just let me use your phone and we can go soon enough."

Granson handed over the phone and Dante dialled a series of numbers swiftly, then placed the phone to his ears.

There was a pause for a while.

"Devil May Cry, Trish speaking,"

…

"Why didn't you ask for the password?" Dante asked "_Christ_, woman, do I have to go over the rules _every_ single time -"

"We abolished the password system, you dolt, remember?" Trish replied with an annoyed voice.

"… I knew that"

"Of course."

"Well, I'm ringing home for a point. I need you to ring the gang - tell them that we're needed in Egypt."

"Egypt?" came the puzzled reply.

"Yeah. Something got to do with the Pyramids, apparently."

There was a sharp intake of breath. Trish seemed to know what was going on as well.

"The Pyramids?"

"Yeah."

"But that means-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I got it all from Vergil."

"Oh…"

"One more thing, Trish."

"What?"

"Could you bring all my gear? I've been using the same sword all the time lately. Just don't bring-"

"Agni and Rudra, I know," Trish said in an amused tone.

"Right. See you later."

With a click, the dial tone came on.

Dante tossed the phone at Granson, who caught it with two hands.

"Great," he said after pocketed his phone "How many are we expecting?"

Dante shrugged.

"Dunno. I suggest you bring a good few extra choppers just in case."

Granson grunted. "Good. I'll inform the man when he rings again."

"So, when do we leave?" Vergil asked.

"Haven't a clue," Granson grunted "I'll find out when the guy rings again."

* * *

_Hours later… … …_

Dante, Vergil, Trish, Tailor and Lady sat in yet another _HellBane_ series helicopter, one of many among a swarm of 14. More devil hunters than expected were up for the job, and they had to wait until more copters came. The original 5 didn't even near cut it.

Through all of this, Enzo still managed to complain about the turnout. More than half of the resistance had stayed behind. Many had no desire to 'desert' the city, and some of the rest were part of the Anti-Demon patrol, and couldn't leave their posts.

Trish had successfully managed to alert everybody fit for the task, and (despite Enzo's grumbling) the 'extra help' Granson had been hoping for had turned into a small invasion force, every single person a trained devil hunter that could off a large amount of demons.

For the time being, though, Dante was pouring through the large travel case full of equipment that he had requested Trish bring.

Tailor and Vergil were looking in over his shoulder with equal interest, looking to see if anything good was in it.

"Aha!" Dante reached into the case and produced a purple, bladed guitar from it. "You brought her!"

"_Her_?" laughed Tailor "Somebody's lonely!"

Dante turned to glare at Tailor. Trish and Lady smiled, appreciating the joke, but it was Vergil who burst out laughing; a most uncharacteristic thing for him to do, but the joke was an insult to Dante, and was therefore hilarious.

Dante's glare moved a little to the left to direct itself at Vergil. Who didn't notice, as he was wiping a tear from his eyes.

"Tell me about it," Dante answered finally, deciding not to make a comeback "I'm surrounded by women mostly, and none of them can recognise a flirt when it comes their way…"

Tailor smirked at Lady and Trish, who both looked like it was their deepest desire to kick Dante.

Although, only Lady made the effort to fulfil this desire.

Rubbing his backside, Dante sat back down on the seat, then started polishing Nevan with his sleeve.

"If you must know," Dante stated to Tailor "It _is_ a she. Nevan was demon I killed. Pretty hot too… I bet _she'd_ know a flirt if it came her way…" He trailed off.

Ignoring him, Vergil and Tailor then started peering into the case. With a murmur, Vergil reached in and seized Beowulf. He turned to Dante, then said:

"How many times do you have to take this off of me? I thought I reclaimed this back in New York!"

Dante shrugged noncommittally, not really listening.

Vergil went back to look in the case. Tailor had already picked up the Boydes Anti-Tank Rifle (Spiral) and started inspecting it.

After a quick scan of the contents, Vergil picked up Force Edge, and placed it on his back.

Dante tortured the rest of the gang by playing Nevan for a while. Only Tailor managed to appreciate it, as he recognised some songs.

Fortunately, Nevan was a weapon. If it wasn't, Vergil would have destroyed it halfway through Dante's first song. So, he sat in a temper by himself, staring out the window. He never really liked 'modern excrement' music, as he called it. As a child, he had destroyed Dante's music players on numerous occasions.

"How long left?" Trish hoarsely inquired as Dante ended an ear-splitting song.

"Not much longer now," Tailor said "They're dropping us off at a Military hangar, where we'll get faster transport to Egypt."

They could see some buildings below, and the helicopter descended towards them.

In a few hours, they would all be in Egypt, where the war would heat up a large amount.

* * *

_Joe: Ah, there you go. _

_An update, after… … how long was it? Two months or so, I think._

_Well, hopefully I'll update soon. I've gotten back into the habit of adding to my chapters more and more._

_I know that the last sentence wasn't a great cliff-hanger, and I meant it to be, but, expect a good bit more depth in the plot._

…

_Yes, and one or two more OCs. _

_So sue me._

…

_On second thought, don't. Just wait._

_Ciao._


	16. Egypt

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything here, unfortunately, and am in no way going to make profit out of this (unfortunately, again). I can claim a lot of OCs, (a lot), but they're no credit to me. _

_Joe: Yes, I keep having to say this after every chapter, but; sorry for the wait._

_So here we go._

* * *

Dante coughed heavily on the air itself, which seemed to be a noxious fume. The area just outside the pyramids was a pitiful sight. Darkness infested the land, which came from the large black cloud in the air.

In this area of Egypt, a cloud was welcome, but this one brought no rain with it. It's only purpose seemed to be to darken the spirits of those below.

Indeed, it was successful, as Dante, Vergil, Tailor, Trish, Lady, Pike, Anvil, Enzo, Granson and legions of devil hunters of New York, with soldiers of Egypt, US, Russia, England, and many other countries made camp in a now inhospitable place.

All signs of life were gone, even though a month ago civilisation lay only miles away.

"What now?" Dante asked.

"We wait for further orders and proper briefing," Tailor replied "That's the drill as far as I know it."

They all looked towards Granson expectantly.

"Don't ask me," he replied gruffly "All I was told to do was to get you all over here. The Egyptian army already had this camp in place after the last raid. The man that rang me should be here to give further instructions."

"That Paul Defoe guy that you mentioned earlier?" Pike grunted through a cigar.

Granson gave Pike a disdainful look, as though he didn't like the look if him.

"That's _General_ to you. I don't know who you are, but while you're here, you're credited to the American Army, and are to show respect to your superiors."

"Respect?" Pike responded.

"Respect, _sir_," Granson corrected.

Pike spat out his cigar and stepped on it.

"I'll call you whatever the hell I damn well please, gramps,"

Granson and Pike eyed daggers at each other, and the argument would have gone further if Vergil hadn't interrupted;

"So, what do we do until we get orders?"

"Don't know. Don't care." Granson muttered in response, not taking his eyes off Pike.

Vergil glared at the both of them, feeling that they were wasting time, as seemed to be the custom of the American army of late.

"Do you have a mess hall around here?" Dante asked suddenly.

"What?" Granson replied, tearing his gaze from Pike and turning it to Dante.

"Haven't eaten in ages. There's gotta be a mess hall around here, right?"

"Well, yes, there has to be, but I don't know where it is."

"Well, a bit of a search couldn't hurt. I'm off."

The group watched as Dante trailed off on his own to find food.

"Anyway…" Granson said "Normally an escort or something is sent to us to show us around. Dante should have waited."

"Why didn't you say that earlier?" Trish asked "Mind you, I don't think he would have waited for an escort anyway."

"Hmm…" Tailor replied as a woman in US army uniform approached.

"General Granson, am I to assume?" she said, looking at Tailor.

'_Do I look like a scumbag?_' Tailor thought, but he said as he nodded towards the real Granson; "No, that's him there."

Granson could not help his eyes looking her up and down as he answered.

"And you are?"

"Robyn Clarkson"

Robyn was a pretty woman, a head shorter than Granson, with shoulder-length brown hair and hazel eyes.

"And what are you here to do, Robyn?"

"I was set as your escort…" she explained, her eyes scanning the group.

"I was told there was to be 9 here. There's only 8."

"We're down Dante Sparda," Anvil (The Mexican-American devil hunter from a few chapters back) said.

"Where is he?"

"Gone to eat."

"Gone to - could he not wait 2 minutes?"

"Never could in his life," Vergil remarked.

Robyn laughed at this. Vergil put a strange expression on his face.

"We'd better get him." Robyn stated "He needs to know what happens next."

_Nearby -_

Dante took a bite out of a sandwich as he stepped out of the large green tent which served as a mess hall. He wouldn't normally have gotten anything, and would have had to wait until a meal time, but, due to his rank of General (he had forgotten about that), a direct order to the staff got him a ham sandwich.

'_Now_' he thought '_to find out where the hell to go next…_'

He paused in his tracks.

Something was wrong.

He could feel it. Something was near. A large group of things were near.

He dropped his sandwich and grabbed Ebony and Ivory.

He looked away by instinct to a hill at the edge of the camp. He squinted.

Small patches of sand appeared to be moving by themselves. Footprints seemed to be forming by themselves.

"Ah, shit."

He holstered his guns and sprinted towards where he left the others, planning to raise the alarm.

His sandwich lay in the sand, forgotten.

* * *

Senator Harold Larimore. President Raelson's rival in the next election.

He was an old enough man, in his early 50s. He was bald, apart from a rim of grey that spread from one ear to another, around the back of his head.

He was currently in his office, reading through his next speech.

A knock on his door made him look upwards.

"Come in."

His voice hinted his age, but was not yet frail.

His assistant stepped in.

"Ah, Perkins," the Senator sighed "Have you got those notes?"

"Yes, sir," Perkins answered, placing several sheets in front of Larimore "Your suspicions on the Sparda twins is going to land a _very_ interesting topic in your next speech."

"Oh? I wouldn't call it suspicions, I was just unsure of them… coming out of nowhere, with such huge sudden authority…"

"Well, it turns out we've got an election turning argument. It seems that one of Raelson's new right-hand men is a criminal."

Larimore frowned, and his forehead creased as his eyes scanned the papers.

"I can't get your point from this, what are you getting at here?" Larimore stated with slight confusion as he handed the papers back for an explanation.

"All right, look at this," Perkins said "We have proof that around 30 years ago, Mrs. Eva Sparda had two children, twins; Dante and Vergil Sparda."

"Father?" Larimore asked.

"Yes, but… things are a little hazy as far as he's concerned…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, records show that he existed, and was married to Eva, but there's no record of any first name. At all."

"Curious."

"Very. And, he seemed to have gotten himself lost from any records at all when the children were around 2 years of age. Not even a funeral or anything."

"Oh…"

"Right. And, anyway, back on track, Mrs. Eva Sparda was found dead in her home when the children were at the age of 10. And, Vergil gone. Most likely dead."

Larimore's eyebrows raised.

"But, he's-"

"Wait until I'm finished, there's loads more. Records of Dante Sparda being sent to an orphanage in San Francisco, until he was 18 years of age. Then, he went missing."

"Oh?"

"It was in the city. Plenty of people are killed, by muggings or other. It happens."

"It does, unfortunately…"

"Yes. But, within a week of his absence, one Tony Redgrave came into existence as a P.I. in the city, a man with Dante Sparda's exact physical appearance, who was also reported to have lost parents at an early age, and spent his childhood in the exact same orphanage as Dante Sparda. But, as luck would have it, there are no records of any 'Redgraves' in existence in San Francisco before that. Later, Tony relocated to New York"

"From San Francisco to New York. That's quite a relocation."

"Yes, and then, Dante Sparda mysteriously came back into existence, as a P.I. In the city."

"So he…"

"That's what I'm hinting. So, what's happening here is, it's all a coincidence, and no-one is guilty, or, either Dante Sparda is guilty of fraud as of 20 or so years ago, or Tony Redgrave is guilty of fraud as of 10 or so years ago."

"So, Raelson has been supporting a man with a criminal record-"

"That's not it. This 'Vergil' character that's appearing with his 'brother' of late is guilty of fraud as well. Vergil Sparda died around 20 years ago. There is no record of him living anywhere from that space of time, until now. Both these men have been lying for a long enough time, and high enough up for this to be very serious, sir."

Larimore stood up and paced slowly around his office, a smile spread across his face.

"Well… … … it seems that we've got Raelson by the balls…"

* * *

"Demons! We're under attack!" Dante roared to the group, skidding as he halted sprinting "If there's any alarms around here, sound them now!"

"What? But, the guards would have reported something by now!" Robyn said worriedly.

Dante gave her a funny look, half about to ask her where she came from, have to explain the kind of demons these were.

"If these are the same demons as last time," Tailor explained "They can become invisible. Watch yourself!"

They ran off, following Robyn. Where to, they didn't know.

She came to a switch by a large metal sentry tower, and pulled it.

A klaxon sounded.

Suddenly, demons all over the place, realising they were spotted, materialised out of thin air. It was no longer a stealth mission.

Within a matter of seconds, a large amount of gunfire, and horrible shrieks of anguish were heard.

The group (apart from Robyn) looked around in surprise.

They hadn't noticed them before, but there were a lot of tall sentry towers that were scattered around the place, that went up above the tops of the tents for vision, all with mounted guns. Any demon seen outside of a tent was shot down in seconds.

After a while, gunshots could still be heard. Some demons had escaped indoors, and were still fighting.

Still in one group of 10, they all ran into the nearest tent, weapons ready.

Incidentally, it was the mess hall that Dante had just been in a minute or two previously.

They were greeted by a horrible sight: bodies littered the place, unarmed staff of the mess hall were slaughtered, demons finishing off the last, screaming survivors.

Dante took Cerberus off his back (he took it out of the chest of weapons before getting out of the helicopter) and swung it round his body, making sure a demon got caught in it's path, then knocked it down with a jumping roundhouse to the stomach, then finally slamming the weapon down hard into it, killing it, and causing a cluster of icicles to appear in the wound.

The rest of the humans simply opened fire on the demons, but Vergil pulled up his sleeves, quickly kicked off his boots, and took off his gloves, where he hidden Beowulf. He then charged at the nearest demon.

There was a surprising amount of demons there, around 14, and it was no easy feat fighting them, as they were also powerful breeds, the elite modern warriors of the demons.

When around 5 were left, something strange happened; one of the demons devil triggered. Dante cursed. He should have noticed that it was bigger than the others. And, it had that bigger claw thing that the 'captain' demons had. It hadn't talked yet, but it should have been able to.

The devil hunters groaned, knowing what was happening, while Granson's eyes widened, remembering the last time this happened.

Trish, Dante and Vergil remained indifferent.

Robyn, however, the one nearest to the demon, shrieked as it leaped at her, scythe ready to cut through her.

Vergil was there instantly (literally) and brought a fist up to meet the blade, his hand leaving a trail of light behind due to Beowulf.

With a clang, the weapon was knocked out of the demon's hand. A sphere of blue light came out of Vergil as he devil triggered.

Robyn screamed again and fell back, onto the ground as two monsters stood fighting before her.

Vergil (now in the form of a black demon with a blue aura, with silver ridges engraved into his scales like his feet and fists) kneed the demon in the stomach, causing it to bend over.

He placed his hand on the demon's helmet, then lifted it up.

The demon started writhing in pain and shrieking curses in Lìstook, as a crunching sound was heard; Vergil had it in a vicelike grip and was tightening it, the helmet and the demon's skull were collapsing inwards, crushing it's head to a pulp.

Black blood dripped out of the helmet.

"Holy shit…" Tailor gasped, after finishing off the last demon with a shot to the heart "You are one sick bastard."

Dante was just looking at Vergil with a peculiar expression on his face, as if he was realising something.

The light bound back into Vergil as he dropped the demon.

"I didn't mean to grip it so hard…" he muttered "I was actually going to throw him across the room…"

He turned around and offered a hand to Robyn, who hesitated before taking it.

They left the room in search of other demons, apart from Dante.

Tailor halted by the exit to wait for him.

"What is it?" he asked, curious at the grin on Dante's face.

"I can't believe it!" Dante laughed.

"You can't believe what?"

"He likes her!"

"What? Who?"

Tailor was still confused, but he couldn't help smiling at the expression Dante had, and the glint in his eyes.

"Vergil! He likes her!"

"You mean Robyn?"

"If that's her name, yeah."

Tailor laughed with Dante.

"How can you tell?"

"That anger thing just there."

"Well, the man despises weaker demons than him."

"Okay, then, the anger thing, and, the fact that he's slightly less of an asshole around her."

* * *

_Joe: Okay, that's two new OCs for you, I think; Larimore, and Robyn._

_And, I know that it was the shortest chapter yet, but I had to update quick (Well, I wouldn't call it a 'quick update', but that's exactly why I needed to speed up the update)_

_Ciao._


	17. The Calm Before the Storm

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything here, and am in no way going to make profit out of this. I can just claim some OCs, because no-one else can._

_Joe: I done it! I got to the 100 review mark!_

_I speeded things up a little, as a little reward, and to say thanks._

_Huge, huge thanks for the reviews, I got the 5 reviews within a few hours, plus more. Please, please keep it up._

_Oh, and just three notes:_

_Larimore won't come up for a while, the next time you see him will be at the election._

_If this isn't the last part in book 1, the next one will be._

_You may be thinking that I've forgotten about certain characters in the fic and in the DMC storyline, but just wait until the end of the chapter. They'll show up._

_So, enough chit-chat, time to get started._

* * *

Crìnge and Pontius were in a small chamber of the building beneath the pyramid, away from the others to talk about the course of action.

"Look, the fact is, Pontius, if we don't start the ritual soon, we will run out of demons," Crìnge stated grimly "We can't get any more, with the rift caused by Sparda gone. The demons overrunning the human places will deteriorate, with no more coming, they-"

"Enough, Crìnge…" Pontius interrupted "I wanted to start earlier… … _you_ were the one that wanted to stall and wait for proper attention!"

Crìnge smiled.

"I apologise, then."

"…you apologise for nothing, my friend."

Crìnge kept smiling, and he remained silent, for he was deep in thought. After a moment, in which Pontius politely waited, he spoke;

"No time like the present, as they say. Come, get your protégée, he may want to see this."

"Do you… … still remember the way?" Pontius asked doubtfully.

"Of course," was Crìnge's answer "Remember, I'm the one that possessed the pharaoh and designed these hallways?"

"Hmm…" Pontius responded as he followed Crìnge.

They walked into the large room where the rest of the order were waiting, and Pontius called Joel to his side. Crìnge then announced;

"My friends, the time has come, for-"

He paused, as a cheer rose from his brethren. He continued:

"It is now the time to continue on what we started 2'000 years ago, to enslave this world and it's undeserving people!"

A cheer, much greater than before rose from the other demons.

Joel, beside Pontius, shivered.

He did not know why, but that last sentence made him stir. A part of him, long forgotten was rising up again, his conscience beating against him.

He swallowed and tried to suppress it.

There was no need for a conscience, he was only doing this for the good of his race.

Although, he knew that his father would never have joined these people in the first place…

_No!_ He had to get rid of those thoughts! His father is dead! In fact, Pontius was his new father now!

Actually, no, he wasn't his father, he was his mentor. Joel was going past 18 years of age, he didn't need a father. He could make his own decisions. He was a man…

No…

He was a demon.

He didn't realise it as he thought this, but he was walking along with Pontius and Crìnge along a set of stone corridors assembled like a maze, all the time going downwards, steadily downwards.

* * *

All the demons in the camp had been found and killed. Not even the bodies remained, as the demons tended to decompose rapidly after death.

The group were seated in a large tent with Robyn, where she was discussing the situation.

"The US army was originally sent over here as a garrison," she explained "After the contract was signed at _that_ meeting a month or so ago, many of the larger countries of the world sent support units to other countries to help. You'll find that this camp is international, there are Chinese, Russians, French and British here also, all with their designated sections of the camp. You can tell who owns where by the flag on the tent."

"If there are that many here, why are we having problems?" Tailor asked.

Robyn grimaced.

"There weren't that many here until recently, and before that, demons just came out of the blue from the direction of the pyramids in huge numbers. We were helpless."

"So, what, we're sent here to just wait to be slaughtered?" Enzo growled.

"What?! Of course not!" Robyn answered, looking horrified at the thought "You were sent here to help us retaliate against the demons!"

"I wouldn't think that's possible," Trish commented, looking grim "I can feel something about this place, and I know what the pyramids mean to the demons. The source that the demons are coming from is too strong. Even if we let loose the entire camp, we're at huge risk."

"Hang on," Robyn said "If the demon settling near here was that big, we'd have known by now."

"Not necessarily," Vergil stated, making conversation for once "That is not how demons work. A large gathering of demons to this extent isn't here without reason. They are definitely holding back a large amount to defend their base. The forces that they send out are only for ensuring that our forces don't become too strong."

Robyn gave him a curious stare.

"You know all this how?"

If Vergil could have blushed, he would have done so there. Dante realised this, and winked at Tailor, who smirked.

"I've spent a lot of time around them. I know how they work."

"Oh."

"Anyway, what are we to do, since our force apparently isn't big enough?" Lady inquired "We obviously can't attack, and just waiting here defending isn't going to do any good."

"You lot from New York weren't the only one's called in," Granson responded "I heard that, as well as extra troops, they're sending the big guns in."

"Us?" Dante asked in disbelief "But, we're already here-"

"If you could let your ego aside for a minute, brother, maybe he can continue," Vergil remarked coldly.

Dante glared at him and fell into silence.

"I don't actually know what else they're bringing in," Granson continued "All I know is that more are coming, and they're not the regular infantry."

"You know," Robyn suddenly said "I know that a large fleet is scheduled to land here today. Soon, actually."

"Well, I guess that whatever they are, we'll find out soon enough," Lady stated "and let's hope they're as good as they're supposed to be."

Around an hour or two later, a large amount of black spots appeared in the sky, become increasingly bigger, until they were eventually revealed to be military helicopters, the usual elite _HellBane_ choppers that were seeming to become standard fare.

At last the helicopters landed by the base, and the doors opened.

Then, warriors in dark blue armour stepped out.

Dante sighed to himself. Of course! He had completely forgotten.

The Guardians of Vie De Marli were here to fight.

Then, he saw a familiar face (or rather, a familiar head) step out of a chopper with bright red hair.

He walked towards the figure.

"Blue armour, huh? If it were me, it would've been red."

Lucia turned round and paused for a second, laughed, then leaped at Dante in a bear hug. Dante felt the wind knocked out of him.

"It's been too long, Dante." she said, beaming "I thought since the last time that we would be fighting alongside a lot more often. As for the armour…"

"…yeah." Was Dante's only response as he regained his breath.

"It's the traditional war armour of the Guardians. You saw them all wear it last time, I was one of the few that escaped. Now, however, we must all wear it. I never wore it before that because it was never war."

The entire thing was made up of a large chest plate with an engraved crest by the heart, shoulder plates, plates by the upper thigh, greaves of sorts (Like boots) and gauntlets.

No helm was worn, as the Guardians never used them, as practicality ruled that, if a devil trigger was necessary, the helm just made things uncomfortable.

Some of the soldiers on looking were impressed by these newcomers, if not a little resentful of their armour, which earned a few laughs. The Guardians respected them, as they knew that they were not protected by mere metal, as the armour was crafted by experienced half-devils of the clan who put seals on the metal it was crafted from.

Apart from the armour, the half-devils had nothing else in common. They had no set weapons, they were carrying a variety, as they wielded what suited them best.

The rest of the Guardians were walking away together towards a large tent bearing the US flag.

"Sorry," Lucia said, turning to leave "It looks like I've to head. I'll see you soon."

"Right."

Dante walked back to the others, where Tailor was giving Dante the same look that he himself wore a while ago.

"What?" he asked with a frown.

"She likes you, Dante. _Really_ badly. It's obvious."

"I know, tell me about it…" Dante said, almost sadly "She almost flattened me there. I mean, she's kinda hot and all, but, she sorta scares me."

Tailor chuckled at this, and they walked together back towards the tent where they had previously talked.

When they entered, everybody was leaving.

"What's going on?" Tailor queried.

"For the time being, we can't do anything," Lady explained "We're just to wait around until we get further orders."

"I've to show you to your beds," Robyn said, gesturing for them to follow her "It may be a while until anything is decided"

They walked outside, and Dante was surprised to see that the sun had already set, not realising the time.

She led them a to tent near the centre of the US division, then bade them goodbye.

Vergil, Dante and Tailor had to share the same tent.

The beds were slightly larger than single beds, yet not quite double. They were all General rank, they got the better stuff.

Dante literally collapsed onto his bed after changing. The springs groaned under his weight as he rolled about, shifting to find a comfortable position.

Additional creaks and groans in the tent informed him that the other two had done likewise.

* * *

Although he was weary, Dante couldn't bring himself to close his eyes for more than ten seconds at a time. Too many things that required thought were going on at the moment. He didn't need the sleep too much, anyway. He had gone longer without sleep before. He was a half-demon, more resilient than humans.

He sat up and looked at the other two. Tailor was feigning sleep; his chest was raising and lowering itself slowly, yet the absence of his usual snores told Dante that he was merely acting, really he was thinking.

Vergil, on the other hand, was not bothering to make it look like he was sleeping at all. His covers still neatly folded, he was sitting on top of them in a heap, still in his clothes, sword and Betsy within hand's reach. He was staring at the entrance to the tent, where the flap was slightly open, letting the newly risen moon shine inside. His eyes, unblinking, merely stared at the spot for minutes upon end, deep in thought.

"What's wrong?" Dante spoke, barely audible, but loud enough for Vergil to hear. Not enough for Tailor to hear.

Vergil didn't look up as he answered.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that, I can tell there's something wrong," Dante replied "You can tell me."

Vergil finally averted his eyes from their previous position and blinked, then looked at Dante. Indeed, there was no visible change in his appearance to suggest that he was depressed.

But Dante knew his brother better than that. Vergil never showed any emotion anyway. Not since they were kids.

"I'm…I'm just tired," Vergil said, blinking again prematurely.

Dante shook his head slightly.

"No, you're not. Don't lie, you're not good enough at it anyway," he replied, smiling, trying to cheer Vergil up.

Vergil went silent for a moment, and looked back at the ray of moonlight trailing in.

"I never told you this, but…"

He went silent again.

"Yes?" Dante pressed quietly.

"Do you remember that mansion on Dumary Island?" Vergil asked.

Dante nodded.

"You mean the place where Vlad and all those demons came from."

"Yes. We both sensed that there were other powerful devils in there, apart from Vlad. And, do you also remember at the battle before the tower, near the end, a carriage came, and several devils came out, apparently to check on their comrade?"

Dante nodded again.

"Well, one of them - the one with silver hair… did you notice anything about him?"

Dante took a deep breath in and out slowly. He looked at Tailor, who seemed to be actually asleep now.

"I was wondering about that… there was something about his aura… it reminded me of… of…"

"Old times," Vergil finished for him.

"Yeah," Dante confirmed, sitting upright against the wall behind his bed "It wasn't _exactly_ what I remember…_him_ being like, but…"

There was no need to finish the sentence.

"Well, Dante," Vergil said suddenly, using Dante's name for the first time in a while "It's because he was _his_ brother. He's our uncle."

"What?!" Dante said louder than he originally planned.

Tailor stirred and rubbed his eyes.

"How do you know?" Dante hissed.

"I-" Vergil started, suddenly frowning; a rare occasion. He didn't want to tell Dante about his secret, of Sparda's diary.

"What's this?" Tailor yawned as he sat up.

"Nothing." Dante stated.

"Oh…"

Tailor yawned and sat up, then looked at the two strangely.

"Are you two okay? You look kinda worried. I haven't seen either of you like that before."

The twins exchanged glances, then they both simultaneously regained their usual expressions.

"Fine. Keep your secrets," Tailor said "But you're still gonna have to talk to me! You woke me, and I'm not going to be able to go back asleep now."

"Hmm…" Dante responded, looking back at the entrance flap, where a breeze was flapping it, making it make an irritating noise.

Tailor sighed loudly.

"Seriously. You guys bore me. No conversation. Dante, I'm actually kinda disappointed in you."

Dante looked up, the usual spark in his eyes returned.

"You wanna talk? Fine. Vergil, _who_ - I mean, _what - _doyou want to talk about?"

Vergil frowned, having no clue of what Dante was on about.

"So…Vergil, how 'bout that Robyn, huh?" Dante continued, now grinning.

Tailor grinned along with him, looking at Vergil expectantly.

"Robyn? What do you mean?" Vergil answered indifferently.

"You know what I mean!" Dante pressed "She's kinda hot, don't you think?"

"_What?!_" Vergil snapped.

"Pretty face, nice ass…" Dante said, ignoring the immense glares that Vergil was giving him "…and a big rack, what more would you want?"

Vergil's mouth was open and moving, but no noise was coming out; he was at a loss for words, but the freezing stare he was giving Dante got the message through.

After a pause, he said;

"You. Are. A. Pervert."

Dante looked offended, and turned to Tailor for back-up. He got none.

"He's right, you know, Dante," Tailor agreed "You are."

Dante would have looked more offended if it was possible.

"We - are - in - _war_!" Vergil hissed "And I seem to be the only one who can keep his immature eyes away from women-"

"You can _not_," Dante butted in "You may be smart, Verge, but you're not subtle."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you do," Tailor contradicted "You like her. It's obvious."

"Talking about war," Dante said, then asked "What rank is she anyway, do you know?"

"She's a Specialist." Tailor replied simply.

"How do you know?" Dante inquired.

"It's the insignia on her shoulder. You should know those by now. Specialists have a green patch with an eagle on it."

"What's a Specialist?" Vergil asked.

"Rank above Private First Class. Rank below Corporal. Same pay code as Corporal, though. Sometimes, when they're promoted, they skip Corporal and go straight to Sergeant. I was."

"Yeah, by the way, I was thinking…" Dante started to ask another question "When do we get our uniforms? And what do we get on our shoulders?"

"I don't know when you get yours, but, as you should have seen on mine, Generals have four stars in a vertical line."

Dante nodded, then turned to look back at Vergil and said "So, you gonna screw her?"

Vergil sighed loudly, then got under his covers and replied:

"I've had enough of you discussing womanising. Goodnight."

He turned in bed away from the other two.

Dante got back into his bed as well, and said

"It's not called 'womanising', bro. It's called actually getting a girlfriend. Since you're around 29, you might think it's time to get your first."

Tailor snorted loudly, and was about to continue when he noticed that there was no-one to talk to.

* * *

"Here we are. The activation room."

Crìnge and Pontius, along with an awestruck Joel, were standing at the gigantic room that was near the very bottom of the building beneath the pyramid. The pyramid shaped part of the structure that was above ground was really just the tip of the iceberg.

The activation room was an immense circular room, mainly covered by the huge object in the centre of the room.

The object was for the most part an obelisk carved from an unknown substance, with strange carvings on the sides that Joel could not understand.

At the base, however, which they were standing just in front of, the strange stone-like substance came out from all sides to form a plain rectangular block which acted as a platform that the obelisk was protruding from. It went from the floor to shoulder-height.

Crìnge stepped up to it, and before him was the only strange thing about the rectangular part of the structure. A circular lump of stone came out, with a diameter about the size of a TV, and looked like a button on the block.

Crìnge stared at it for a while, as if trying to remember what to do.

Just when Joel opened his mouth to say something, Crìnge smiled and muttered something to himself.

He took his glove off his right hand. Joel expected to see a claw, but instead saw a human-like hand.

Crìnge placed his hand up to the circular button thing, and his hand burst into cold, blue flame.

The circle moved, and went into the rectangular block.

The ground shuddered, and a large rumbling was heard. Joel fought to keep upright, but the two full-demons stood perfectly still, unperturbed by the shuddering ground.

The large rectangular block, the base of the structure, sunk into the ground and disappeared, leaving only the humongous obelisk in the centre of the room.

Joel noticed that the obelisk was in a hole that was only an inch or two wider than the obelisk. It seemed that it went down below this, the lowest chamber in the building.

Crìnge looked at it with a small smile, apparently happy with his work.

"What now?" Joel asked.

"We wait." Pontius answered.

"That large block that sunk into the ground was the lock." Crìnge explained "The entire thing works by itself once the lock is gone. If we were outside, we would see that all the other pyramids are sending power to this one. Half an hour from now, the obelisk will raise upwards, up to the top of the pyramid to the peak, which will split open to allow it to continue. After a further half hour, the pyramid will fire a beam up into the sky to cut through the seal between the two worlds."

"So we have to wait an hour?" Joel inquired, a little disappointed.

"Patience…" Pontius stated "…That is not time enough… when the pyramid splits open, it will leave the humans free to enter before we can fire…we have to defend the place. And you, my apprentice… are not yet ready to fight."

"What? I am!" Joel argued "I'm eighteen now, a grown male by human standards!"

"But not by demon," Pontius said "… …in fact, you are still a child to us… …in around 60 years, _then_ you'll be a full grown demon."

"In any case, what Pontius means is that you have to train for the onslaught to come," Crìnge said.

Pontius looked around, inspecting the room.

"This is a better place than many… …we shall continue here."

Crìnge stayed where he was.

"I will assist this time. You will need all the help you need, all in the space of half an hour."

"Now… …" Pontius began "Show me your devil side."

Joel frowned.

"I don't have one yet. They say on my island that it normally takes until your twentieth year of age for it to start developing."

Pontius tutted at this.

"Nonsense… …the devil side is the maturing of the soul, not the body, as far as I know with half-devils… …it can start at any age."

"That's another thing, how come half-devils can change their form, but you full-devils can't?"

"Half and full devils' forms differ," Crìnge said "Half-devils create a rift around their body to make a bubble of air within the demon realm. That's why the air distorts. They get the energy to do this with adrenaline received from fighting, or otherwise. The demon side sucks the adrenaline as a fuel source until there is no more, or the being wishes to become human again.

"Demons, however, do not utilize this same ability. It's complicated, but, in basics, the human realm is not able to support demonic matter, and we can only use weaker forms, unless in the demon realm."

Joel took a moment or two to take this in.

"… … …right."

"You still have not shown me your devil side…" Pontius remarked.

"Okay… I'll try…" Joel muttered.

He focused hard, giving him the look of a person with a headache. Crìnge laughed, and Pontius' eyes merely lit, as he couldn't show emotion.

After a while, Crìnge said:

"It seems he does not have enough adrenaline. We will have to give him some."

He raised his still un-gloved hand, which burst into blue flame again.

Joel rose high into the air, so high that a fall would severely injure him.

"Do it now," he heard Crìnge say below "Or I will let go."

Joel started sweating rapidly.

"I - I can't!" he yelled.

"Do it!" was Crìnge's response. Pontius merely watched without comment.

"I can't!"

He started struggling in midair, his arms and legs flailing desperately, as if hoping to release himself from whatever hold Crìnge had on him.

"You'll find that you can." Crìnge said up to him.

Crìnge gave Pontius an amused glance, before suddenly extinguishing his hand, then setting it alight again almost instantly.

Joel dropped a few feet, screaming, then halted in midair, once again in Crìnge's grip.

"Do it now, or I will not stop you next time," Crìnge ordered.

"I CAN'T!" Joel yelled frantically, closing his eyes and shaking his head wildly "I CAN'T, I CAN'T, I -"

His screams were cut off and replaced by a loud shriek as he dropped from mid air.

The blue flame around Crìnge's hand was gone.

Pontius remained silent and continued observing, remaining indifferent as always.

"AAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!" Joel shrieked as the floor beneath came rapidly closer.

**THUMP!**

Joel hit the ground with such impact that a large humanoid shape was imprinted into the ground.

A thick mist of dust hung around the air where he landed. Crìnge looked at it with slight interest, and turned towards Pontius, who merely shrugged.

"Get up." Pontius ordered "You are not dead… …whatever pain you have will soon go away."

Joel groaned and heaved, pulling himself out of the small crater in the ground he had made. His breath was ragged, but he felt alright. Just very, very confused.

"Are you not aware, boy," Crìnge stated, noticing the look on his face "That you are much more resilient than your human-loving people liked you to believe? You are half-demon. Unless you are at an incredibly high altitude, and more than bones are shattered, you will be fine."

Joel took a final heavy breath in, and realised that these two knew that he wouldn't die. But, he wondered, if the drop could have killed him, would they have acted different? After he proved that he did not know how to become a demon, would they still have interest in him?"

"In time, young Joel, in time…" Pontius reassured him, reading his thoughts.

Joel cursed inwardly. He was so goddamn sick of words like that. _You're too young._

"Well, what about _now_? How am I going to defend myself later on?" he demanded impatiently, his temper rising.

"Patience, patience… …" his guardian waved it off "We are not even sure that the humans will make it here… … they may not notice until it is too late, and there is a camp outside where the remaining soldiers are housed… … …they may never get in."

"No." It was Crìnge that said this, much to Joel's surprise (he was going to be the one that said it) "They will come. I can tell. They have Sparda's young with them. The boy will need proper defence."

Pontius cursed, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with anger, yet possibly worry.

"Sparda's young! … … If those bastards got in, they could ruin everything…"

Joel frowned at this and began to worry himself at these words. He turned to Crìnge, and was surprised to see him remain indifferent. He calmed down, knowing that if Crìnge could see no problem, there must be no problem.

"You worry too much, Pontius. They are only two. And, of split blood."

Pontius narrowed his eyes at him, something nobody had dared do for over a millennia.

"You know well, Crìnge that the only difference between half and full devils is their form… … …they are as powerful - more powerful than some here!"

Joel blinked. He had assumed that the human part of him was a defect. That half-devils were half as powerful as full fledged demons.

"It still makes no difference. And, the boy still needs a proper defence against them."

Pontius redirected his thoughts to Joel. He raised his hand, and a white mist came out of it. When the mist deteriorated, a small sword with a white jewel at the centre of the hilt.

He tossed it at Joel, who caught it with one hand.

"This will do for now… …the blade is cursed. A wound caused by it will not heal, unless the curse is neutralised."

Joel admired his new-found blade with shining eyes and a sinister grin.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked after a moment or two.

"What else?" Crìnge answered "We wait."

* * *

Both Dante and Vergil snapped into consciousness at the exact same moment, alert and fully ready for action.

They could both sense something. Something very familiar.

Their eyes met, and they both nodded.

Dante lightly punched Tailor, who was fast asleep.

"Wake up. Now."

Tailor groaned, and put a hand to his eyes and rubbed the sleep away. When his eyes opened, and he noticed it was still dark, he opened his mouth to protest, but immediately sealed it upon seeing the glances the twins gave them.

"Get up." Vergil ordered.

Tailor, sensing the seriousness of the situation, did as he was told without question.

When he was fully dressed in the gear of a General, he hazarded to ask what was going on.

"There's something happening close by. A huge amount of demonic energy is being used" Vergil replied "A pattern like this means that something big is going to happen. Soon."

They exited the tent, and Tailor gasped.

The sky was red.

"Red sky at night… …but, it must be way past midnight by now…" Tailor muttered.

The twins looked grim. Their suspicions were confirmed.

"The seal. They're going to break it." Dante stated.

"What seal?" Tailor asked.

"Which do you think?!" Vergil snapped "The one separating the worlds, you dolt!"

Tailor didn't reply to this. If Vergil showed any extreme emotion, it could only be anger. He was used to it. He never showed worry, anxiety or grief. Just anger, or nothing.

Before any more words were exchanged, a klaxon sounded, waking all those that were not on night duty.

People all around hurriedly exited their tents in messy uniforms that were hastily thrown on, the same look of fear on all of their faces.

"There you are," came a voice behind them.

The three turned round to see Lady looking at them. Bags were under her eyes.

"I've been sent to look for you lot" she said, then jerking her head to motion them to go with her "Come on."

They followed her silently, and she led them back to the tent where they had conversed previously.

They went in through the flap with her, and found the same large table as before. Granson, Trish, Robyn, Enzo, Pike and Anvil were there (The latter three were there to represent the devil hunters in the camp), and there were many uniformed people. Tailor would later tell the twins that they were Sergeants, Sergeant Majors, First Sergeants, Brigadier generals, Lieutenant Generals, Major Generals, and other Generals like them.

"Morning, boys," Trish cheerfully greeted them, her eyes immaculately clear. She was half-laughing at all the others, who were foul tempered due to lack of sleep, and all merely grunted at her if she said something (she would later find that it was partly contempt at her dress sense).

"What are _you_ doing here?" Vergil rudely asked Robyn.

"I was given orders as your guide," she replied, unperturbed by his rudeness "And they were my last as a Specialist. Last night was to be my last in that rank. I'm now Sergeant Robyn Clarkson."

"Oh…" Vergil mumbled "Well…congratulations."

"Thanks." she said, smiling at him.

Dante and Tailor snorted. Dante was about to comment when Granson cleared his throat,

"I take it that you noticed the night sky?" he said, a cigar messing up his speech. Nearby, Pike had done likewise.

They nodded.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Dante asked.

"_Do_ about it?" Granson answered "I was hoping that you two would tell _us_"

Some of the men in uniform snorted, still mistrusting the twins.

"If there's anything to be done, it's to be done at the demon's source, over by the pyramids," Vergil stated sagely.

"Well, that much is obvious, but _what_?"

"I am unsure," Vergil continued "From what I know of the pyramids, they were made to break the seal between the two worlds -"

More snorts from the others.

"-but I do not know exactly how they do that. But, we need to get to the pyramids."

"And how exactly do you plan we do that?" A Sergeant Major cut in "The area around the pyramids is overrun! They have a camp around half the size of this, and this isn't all under America's control! We don't know if many of the other garrisons around here will even do anything!"

Before anybody could reply to this, Granson's phone rang. He made an irritated noise with his throat, and stepped out to answer.

Glances with raised eyebrows were exchanged, and some of the men tutted their disapproval.

In a short while, Granson returned in with an expression of awe on his face.

"Excuse me for a second, but, come outside. There's something you need to see."

Once again, they allowed themselves to be led through the camp, until they reached the very edge of the controlled territory, overlooking the pyramids.

Granson did not need to point or make any comment, what they needed to see was blatantly obvious.

There many gasps and light curses from the group. Only Vergil had his mouth shut, but he was staring at the pyramids with a grim expression.

For, the clouds above the pyramid, now red in colour, were forming a circle and constantly rotating, leaving a space of blank sky in the centre.

But, below was where the real shock was. All the pyramids, bar one, were shooting red electricity from their tips to the main Pyramid, which was receiving the blasts from all the others.

"Now, could I direct your attention to the ground, where the demon camps are," Granson's voice came out of the blue.

They all looked down. Robyn made a disgusted noise.

Crude tents were made out of the skins of animals.

Mostly human.

They could see small figures patrolling the outside of the camp, but inside there was barely any movement.

"Reports say that over half of the previous population of the camp has disappeared," Granson stated "They just vanished."

Optimistic murmurs were heard behind the twins.

"They are inside." Vergil announced, partly to himself.

"What?" Granson asked.

"The pyramid. They are inside. They have something to do inside."

People around him gave him doubtful looks, but he was sure.

Granson raised his eyebrows and took the cigar out of his mouth, and extinguished it by stepping on it. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth again and thought for a second. Finally, he said;

"Alright. Fair enough. But, whatever the case is, the demons have made themselves more vulnerable. If you ask me, it's about time we move on the offensive."

"_Finally_!" Dante burst out, forgetting himself "About damn time!"

* * *

_Joe: Ah, finally finished._

_Long enough, I hope. Probably too long, but there you go._

_Well, I hurried things up a bit, and it did take a long time, but the chapter was big._

_And, writer's block screwed things up a bit. Could you tell by the writing?_

_Or am I always that bad? (shrugs shoulders)_

_Oh, and Evil Fang, the 'Spitters' are coming up next chapter._

_Huge thanks again for the reviews, but don't stop now!_

_Until the next chapter,_

_Ciao._


	18. Storming the Pyramid

_Disclaimer: If there's something here that's copyrighted, you can bet that I didn't do it. I don't own anything here, Capcom does._

_Joe: Yeah, I know I haven't updated for… …what is it? A few months, at this stage. Sorry about that._

_Anyway, you'll notice that I've gotten rid of the 'books' and 'parts', and introduced chapter names. I've decided on a different plot than the one I had originally planned. It's less predictable, it's shorter, and I think it's better. I was going to have a 'book 2' after the chapters in Egypt, where it's around 10 to 20 years later, where Tailor has aged, Dante and Vergil haven't, Joel is a grown man and powerful demon, and some of the countries of the world have fallen to the demons. It was going to be pretty cool, I think, but this new plot has more twists, and it's extremely shorter. The first plot would have had about 40 chapters, and that would have been far too long. It's part of the reason why it took me so long to update, because I didn't bother so much because I thought it would take so long to do._

_You'll also notice that this chapter is a bit more military-focused than the others, with more scenes of just humans fighting demons, rather than the twins helping them. It's also a plot-important chapter, a lot happens._

_Oh, and there's a type of demon that's in the chapter that's new, but I didn't come up with them. Evil Fang did, they're in his fic, 'Two Annoying Devils'. See if you can spot them. I know that they're a small bit different in this, but I just imagined them to be sand crawlers, sorry Evil Fang. The demons themselves haven't been changed, though._

_So, at long last, here we go._

* * *

All that could be heard was the noise made by the helicopter blades as they cut through the air.

Several soldiers stood in the _HellBane_ copter that served as a drop ship, hanging onto the bars that were attached to the ceiling.

The tents of the demon camp could be seen below. There wasn't a man in the copter that didn't feel nauseous; the tents were made from the skins of anything that dared cross the demons' path - mainly human skins. But aside from those, there were the skins of some of the native animals. They were all aligned in blocks, almost like streets.

"You all know your mission," the commanding officer in the _HellBane_ announced loudly over the noise of the helicopter blades "But I'll recap, just in case. Our first, and only objective is to secure the camp. Intel says that over half of the demons have evacuated, so this should be a cakewalk. We have reinforcements ready if things get too rough for us."

The rest of the soldiers remained silent, staring down at the camp through the large windows on both sides of the copter.

If the tents weren't a horrifying enough sight to behold, the crimson sky and clouds and red electricity flying from the pyramids into the main one were there as a constant reminder to the soldiers of the urgency of the mission.

The copter started it's descent.

They all checked their guns and ammo, nobody saying a word.

At last, the sides of the copter came up, and they jumped out onto the sandy ground. Countless other copters nearby landed too.

"Keep to your squads!" roared a Sergeant nearby.

They advanced in their groups of 20, guns raised. The smell of sweat was everywhere - fear.

"Enemy sighted!" screamed a soldier, flinging himself to the ground and opening fire at the approaching demons.

The rest of his unit nearby opened fire along with him.

The charging demons were shot down before they reached the humans, the amount of bullets being fired was enormous.

The odd demon barely managed to raise it's scythe if it did get to the humans. The demons behind them hung back and took out their _Nightmare_-_Alphas_, and returned fire.

Roars of anguish were quickly heard, the demonic bullets tearing through multiple soldiers at a time.

"Frags! Throw a frag!"

A grenade found itself thrown at the demons. Before they could react, the grenade exploded, sending shrapnel flying in all directions.

The demons shrieks replaced the humans.

Then, when they thought that they had got the upper hand, sand started spraying upwards from the ground, and large insect-shaped creatures crawled up. They were long and sleek, and black in colour, and six legs. Wings were folded on their backs, and a large circular mouths with rows of teeth were on their faces, along with countless eyes.

The soldiers opened fire on the new demons, forgetting about the swiftly recovering soldiers of sin.

The insect demons were fast, as soon as they reached the topsoil, they jumped into flight and went straight for the troops' faces.

The man closest to them shrieked as one clamped onto his face with it's 4 front legs, while the mouth pressed onto him, much as a leech would. The man fell down and started writhing in pain. The demon detached itself and flew to it's next victim, leaving a gaping hole in the man's face, which was slowly extending itself, due to a venom of the demon.

Then, another squad came in from the right flank of the fight, and started shouting and shooting at the demons.

The flying demons fell after being shot multiple times, while the soldiers of sin, deflected what they could with their staffs, but the firepower was simply too much.

The humans advanced on, leaving the dead behind, to search for the next pocket of resistance.

* * *

In the tent that served as a control room in the human camp, all the Generals were assembled. A radio on the table was switched on, and a Sergeant's voice was heard from it. 

"…casualties are huge, I'll be surprised if we can go on with the troops we have. Over."

"What of the demons? Over" Granson spoke into the receiver.

"The usual kind, the ones with armour and double ended staffs. But, we've encountered new ones. They look like a large breed of insect, like a cross between a locust and a leech and a poisonous bite -"

"Spitters," Vergil murmured.

"We're finding patches of them every now and then," the Sergeant continued "in 10s, sometimes as much as 20 per pack. We kill all we find, but the same can be said for them. If we're to flush them out, we'll need reinforcements, fast... Over and out"

He finished.

Granson gave a heavy sigh.

"I was rather hoping we wouldn't need to send more men in, but, it seems they're needed."

Dante was sitting silently on a chair in the corner, his fist to his cheek. When he heard that they would be taking action, he didn't know that meant sitting on a chair, listening to reports from soldiers in desperate need. He also had a problem with leaving men to die while waiting in the camp. Every man that died seemed to be a bigger impact on him than to the others. To him it seemed that it was another family was missing a loved one. That last one could have been a brother…a father…

Vergil, on the other hand, was standing beside the radio, taking every death to be a disappointment, a man that had failed his duty. He stood there, glaring at the radio, as if it all was the radio's fault, and looking very irritated.

Tailor sat near Granson, occasionally giving his opinion, or answering the radio instead of Granson.

"I say, send in the reinforcements," he said to Granson "Whatever you're saving them for, Granson, I don't know. You must expect something worse to happen for them to come in for. But, this is exactly the type of situation that they were intended for."

Granson sighed again.

"You're right, Tailor. I'll go and give the signal for them to give the men back-up." he said as he walked outside to make a call.

"What's this?" Vergil suddenly asked "What is the big deal with sending in more reinforcements?"

"Because," Tailor answered "the plan was, that if the first group couldn't handle it, instead of risking more soldiers, we would send in the devil hunters, but Granson…"

"Doesn't trust the scumbags," Granson finished for him as he walked back in. In the corner, Dante raised his head and frowned "I know what type of people they are, and they aren't military trained. They are under no obligation to follow our orders, and they know it."

"You don't understand them, Granson," Dante said in a dark voice. They all turned to face him. "Devil hunters may be mercenaries, and they aren't strictly under your control, but if there's an infestation of demons, you can bet that they won't rest until they've eradicated them. A devil hunter becomes one for a reason, usually because of some family tragedy. You won't have to worry about them running off when things get tough."

Granson gave an irritated grunt.

"I've already agreed to send them in, so shut up."

* * *

All the divisions had joined together. It just made sense - with more men together, their chances of survival were much higher. 

The many sergeants of the units were deep in discussion, the privates surrounding them providing cover. There were two or more Lieutenants at the start, but they had long been slain.

"What now?" Sergeant Johnson asked, his face red and sweat dripping down his face. A steaming gash lay on his left arm "The demons aren't showing themselves, but they're still here - I'm sure of it."

The others nodded.

"I say we continue patrolling," Sergeant Rigby suggested "I don't see why we've stopped to take this discussion anyway."

"You've just been stationed here recently, haven't you?" Johnson asked him shrewdly.

Rigby looked taken aback.

"What has _that_ got to do with anything?"

"You haven't fought demons before, have you?" Johnson continued.

"So?" Rigby was irritated now.

"You don't understand how they work. I've been here since the contract was signed, at the start. Demons only hold back to reinforce themselves or lay a trap."

An uneasy silence greeted these words. The Sergeants exchanged glances.

"So, what, then?" Sergeant O'Hehir asked.

"We press on," Rigby replied.

"Are you mad? Walk right into a trap?" O'Hehir flared up.

"Our mission is to clear them out." Rigby said "If we don't move on soon enough, they'll be properly reinforced, and the surprise of our sudden attack will be gone. We don't even know that there's a trap."

A sergeant that had previously been watching her surroundings cautiously walked up to them and joined in the conversation.

"Yes, I agree" Sergeant Clarkson said "Rigby's right. But, it's a good thing we talked about it, now that we've distinguished the fact that there might be a trap. There's a world of difference between falling into an ambush and walking in fully aware of the consequences."

"I suppose…" O'Hehir said.

"But," Rigby queried "Now that we _are_ aware of a trap, what are we going to do about it? Walk right in, as O'Hehir said?"

"What about reinforcements?" Johnson suggested.

"No chance," said Sergeant Dowling "I've radioed base for them, but the Generals won't cough up anything."

"What about artillery? Or, an air raid?" Rigby queried.

"No," Johnson said immediately "It would be very difficult to traverse a tank through these tents, and we tried knocking them down - but something's keeping them up, somehow. As for an air raid, that's the stupidest plan I've heard in my service. For one thing, we would all get blown to bits. Secondly, we're right beside a pyramid here. We - and the US, wouldn't hear the end of it if we damaged it."

"That's right…" Clarkson agreed "I think, the only choice we have is to move on, but with caution."

Murmurs of agreement came from the others.

They ordered their troops to move on, with at half pace and doubled caution.

"By the way, Sergeant Clarkson," Johnson announced before he joined his troops "You've just been promoted, haven't you? I haven't seen you as a Sergeant before."

"Just got promoted today, to be honest," Robyn smiled as she answered.

* * *

_Back in the control room -_

The Generals were listening to a report from a Sergeant O'Hehir;

"We've just wiped out what seems to be the last pocket of resistance. Casualties heavy, again. We reached a clearing of the tents, a big enough space of ground, right in front of the biggest pyramid. It seems that they were stationed there to guard it, because either they couldn't or wouldn't stray to far from the pyramid. Pretty soon after we started fighting, more demons became visible - all around us, and those flying things crawled out of the ground. We only barely managed it. Awaiting further orders. Over."

Granson looked around the room, inviting someone else to give the further orders.

"Stay where you are, Sergeant" Dante ordered "I've a feeling that the demons have something else to give. They always do… … …oh, over."

O'Hehir took in a deep, and ragged, breath.

"What about reinforcements, General? Over"

"They're on their way. Over and out." Granson finished.

He turned around to the others, and found Dante and Vergil deep in worried conversation.

"What do you two think?"

They looked at him.

"I think I want to go in there," Dante stated.

"No. You're to stay where you are," Tailor answered, as Granson opened his mouth "It's part of being a General. We're the ones who give orders, and who mainly stay out of harms way. It's one of the downs of being a General."

Dante sighed heavily and sat further back in his chair, closing his eyes and covering them with his hands.

"Why do you want to go in?" Granson asked him, eyebrow raised.

"If you haven't noticed yet, I've been wanting to go in from the start," Dante said without moving his hands or opening his eyes "But, I just know that something big is going to happen, and that most of those men are going to die."

Vergil nodded, deciding not to speak.

"Well, I wouldn't worry if I were you two," Tailor said reassuringly getting off his seat and putting his hand on Dante's shoulder "I've only fought alongside them once, but I'm sure that those Devil Hunters will be able to handle whatever big-ass demon decides to attack them."

Dante took his hands off his face and gave Tailor a grim look.

"I'll wait for the time being, David. But, if something strange happens next - and believe me, it will - I'm leaving for the pyramid."

Vergil nodded his agreement.

"Alright, alright!" Granson snapped "If something freaky _does_ happen, we were planning on sending in our next best troops. You two -"

"Three" Tailor corrected.

"Fine, three," Granson added, a vein now visible on his forehead "you three can go in with them."

Dante and Tailor exchanged grins, and Vergil nodded, the corners of his lips twitching.

"I'm going to get the briefcase," Dante said as he stood up and then asked "Hey, Verge, any weapons you want from it?"

"No," was Vergil's response "I have my katana and Force and Beowulf. They are all I want."

"Just one thing, you three" Granson said to Dante's turned back. Dante stopped to show he was listening "If you're going with these troops, you'll need to be able to ride a horse."

Vergil and Tailor both stated that they were able, but Dante turned around to face Granson.

"I'm not riding a horse," he announced stubbornly "But I'm sure that there's a motorbike somewhere around here. If not, get one fetched for me."

* * *

_In the Pyramid -_

In the lowest chamber, the obelisk was rising steadily towards the top of the room. The moment it touched the ceiling, the pyramid will have stored enough power to make room for it to continue it's ascension.

Many metres above the room, the Order were preparing the soldiers of sin for when the pyramid will open.

A Captain-soldier had it's palm open and facing him, as he was a captain and had the transmitter that the human scientists had discovered, where the green jewel was sparkling and emitting small green sparks. Pontius' voice could clearly be heard, in Lìstook.

"_When the pyramid moves, it will create an opening for the humans to enter. When that happens, you must be prepared. Purge everywhere within the pyramid and the camp. Kill all that cross your path. Do not let the humans enter the lower chambers. The pyramid will open in just over 10 minutes."_

The captain nodded, and, although it couldn't be seen, was smiling beneath it's mask.

"_The usual. Of course, Master, as your will commands."_

The jewel stopped sparkling. None of the order were here with them, but only about one third of the previous garrison outside had been stationed inside for the protection of the pyramid were. This army was therefore around twice the size of the demon garrison outside. The Order were now in the lower chambers.

The captain turned to the other captains, who were waiting for the orders.

"_You already know what to do. Kill all you cross. Make special care that no human travels downwards, to the Masters. Prepare yourselves, the humans come in around 10 minutes."_

* * *

The soldiers stood on guard outside the bare wall of the pyramid, taking care of their wounds and resting from what seemed like a never-ending battle. Sergeant Johnson crouched on one knee, having a medic bandage his steaming scar. Robyn stood near, grimacing at the sky and electricity flying at the pyramid they were standing by. 

Johnson grunted his thanks, then stood up and walked up to Robyn.

"Where the hell are the bloody reinforcements? He asked impatiently "It was only a 5 minute helicopter flight to get here!"

"And we were promised them 4 minutes ago," Robyn answered, not averting her gaze from the sky "plus, we don't need them yet. There aren't any signs of demons in the camp anymore. The trap was sprung on us, and we came out alive. That should be it for the demons."

Johnson murmured something that sounded like 'Bullshit', his temper becoming increasingly worse since his injury.

Robyn finally looked down and stared around at the survivors, a pitiful bunch consisting of 17 soldiers, including herself and the others Sergeants.

Then, a sound that sounded like sizzling came out of nowhere.

Everybody stood to full attention immediately, looking around.

It wasn't hard to detect the source of the noise, as lava was coming out of the ground near to where they were standing. Everybody pointed their guns at it, waiting for something to come out of it.

The lava spread into a large circle, then the centre opened up, revealing nothing but blackness inside what now could now be seen as an empty tunnel rimmed by lava.

After a moment, Johnson dared to move closer to the hole, slowly, his gun constantly pointing at it, though it was trembling heavily; his injured arm was getting much worse.

Nothing happened.

He walked right up to it and looked down. He then shouted, and backed away from it as fast as he could.

"Grenades!" he barked at the surprised troops "As many grenades as you have! Throw them down the hole, quick! Before it comes!"

Before anybody could question him on what was coming, a rocky arm protruded from the hole, and pulled the rest of the creature up.

Grenades were flung at it, but it kept coming, the shrapnel leaving marks on it's rocky exoskeleton.

A Phantom crawled out of the swiftly vanishing hole, then let out a deadly hiss.

It leaped into the air.

People shouted below, and ran from their positions. One soldier with an injured leg didn't make it out of the way fast enough, and was crushed to death under the Phantom.

Bullets ricocheted off it's skin, soldiers relentlessly firing, not realising that they were doing no damage whatsoever. The soldiers that were in front of it never shot at it, either running out away from it's mouth, or falling victim to it, never realising that it was it's main weak spot.

Robyn, remembering the long knife that had been issued to her since the meeting of the worlds countries, took it out, gripped it tight in both hands, then ran at the Phantom's back and stabbed the blade into it's tail as hard as she could.

The blade managed to stick into it, but it didn't do enough damage for the Phantom to make a noise of pain. But, it still attracted the Phantom's attention.

Before Robyn could back off from it, it spun round on the spot by jumping, then pulled back it's forearm, shrieked, then slammed it into Robyn's stomach.

Robyn was sent flying like a rag doll, unable to scream because the wind was knocked out of her. She collided into a tent, which kept upright due to spell work, acting like a brick wall. She didn't move.

But the Phantom was already approaching her still figure, it's stinger raised. It pulled back the stinger, ready to strike, then -

A missile exploded onto it's unprotected back.

The Phantom stayed it's tail and shrieked in anguish. It turned around to see multiple _HellBane_ copters with their doors open hovered over the clearing, unloading new fighters that seemed to be out of uniform.

Lady stood in one copter, reloading Kalina Ann before jumping off, onto the ground.

Forgetting about Robyn, the Phantom turned to face it's new adversaries.

It leaped up high, intending to crush a group of humans that were clustered together, but the Devil Hunters expertly dodged out of the way, and fired at it's underbelly before it landed.

The Phantom shrieked again as it landed, bullets and thrown daggers on it's bottom.

Before it could swipe at a nearby Hunter, a Blonde person slashed at it's face with a blade that she should not have been able to even lift.

The Phantom screamed louder than ever, unable to protect itself. Another female Devil Hunter had jumped and landed on it's back, and fired another missile, then jumped off immediately to escape the blast radius.

At last, it managed to latch it's tail onto the blonde one, swing it into the ground several times, then fling it away from it.

Trish landed on her feet, but she had let go of her sword , when the tail had thrown her. It was now too far away from her for her to see. Instead, in a mighty leap, she soared through the air, over the Phantom, before firing bright yellow electricity at the top of the Phantom.

While it was distracted, Pike took out a bomb, attached it to the Phantoms face, then leaped out of the way before it could counter-attack. He checked his pockets, then cursed. He then shouted at Enzo, who was firing at the side of the Phantom to distract it for Anvil to leap onto it and empty a phial of holy water on it and leap off.

"Enzo! Forgot the detonator! You'll have to set it off!"

Enzo gave a small chuckle. He aimed his pistol carefully, then fired a bullet at the bomb, detonating it.

The Phantom didn't get a chance to shriek before it started decomposing.

There was a silence for a few seconds, the soldiers and Devil Hunters panting to recover breath, and a generous and well prepared Devil Hunter healed some of the wounded with his Vital Stars.

"Body count!" Enzo announced grimly after a moment "Check how many people are dead!"

They gathered the bodies. 9 soldiers had died, but no Devil Hunters.

Pike gave a small heave as he dragged a body to the centre of the clearing along with the others. He avoided the glassy stare of Sergeant Rigby's lifeless eyes as he placed him down.

"This one's still alive!" Anvil's voice called out.

They approached the limp form of Robyn, who's chest was, slow and ragged as it was, moving up and down rhythmically.

Before anybody could do or say anything else, the ground trembled ferociously, and a great rumbling was heard.

The stream of electricity coming from the smaller pyramids ceased instantaneously. The biggest one had enough power stored for the next stage.

The rumbling intensified.

Trish, the only one not fighting to remain upright was staring at the halfway point up the pyramid, waiting for something to happen, her expression anxious. She knew what was about to happen before it did.

With one last, great tremor that made all below fall to the ground, the top half of the pyramid detached itself from the bottom, slowly rising up into the air, levitating by itself in the air.

But, the top half had taken pieces of the pyramid with it. Chunks of the bottom half were missing, but in such precise patterns that it must have been deliberately made that way. For, there were now 4 entrances, one on each side of the pyramid, that led inside the pyramid.

Rooms could be seen clearly inside, without a ceiling. There were walls about 14 feet high that came to a stop, not connecting to a roof. What was left was like a topless maze.

As they could not see over the walls, they did not see the demon host inside slowly moving towards the exits, intent on killing all in their path.

"Holy Shit…" Lady said when she returned to her feet.

Trish was still trembling.

"They're coming. All of them."

"What?!" Enzo barked "What do you mean, _all of them_?"

"The ones stationed outside were only about half of them." Trish replied simply.

"How do you know this?!" Lady asked curiously.

"I'm a demon. I can sense them."

Some of the soldiers looked at Trish with disgust. She hadn't mentioned the fact that she was a demon to the army yet. They had all assumed that she was an extremely skilled Devil Hunter.

"Whatever the case is, we need to radio back now more than ever," Enzo said.

* * *

The base received the radio call. The entirety of their best troops were sent out.

* * *

The Devil Hunters were preparing themselves for what was promised to be the biggest battle of their lives so far, several metres away from the entrance for safety. The knew that an army of elite troops would soon be reinforcing them, which kept them from panicking too much. 

But, the fact was, if the army didn't come in time, there were only over 50 strong on their side.

Robyn had been revitalized and healed by Trish and her equipment.

When she awoke, she thanked Trish, and sat down and checked her ammo.

There were no signs of the demons yet.

"You sure that there _is_ an army inside?" Pike asked through a calming cigar.

"Certain." Trish replied as she inspected her newly recovered sword "They must be at a march. I'm guessing that it's massive inside. It would take a while to get out from where they were."

Pike made a grunt, then exhaled a cloud of smoke, then went to calm an apprehensive looking Enzo.

"Trish," asked Robyn suddenly.

"Yes, Robyn?"

"You know Vergil, don't you?"

"… …that's a difficult question, sweetie. I don't think even Dante knows Vergil."

Robyn smiled.

"Yes, it's just that… … …nothing."

Trish placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know what you mean. My advice is, leave him be. It's just too difficult. You don't want to get yourself hurt. But, on the other hand, you're not going to follow my advice anyway, are you?" Trish said as she smiled.

Robyn shook her head, still smiling.

Before Robyn said anything else, Trish's eyes darted up.

"They're here. Get up."

They both stood up and raised their weapons, and the others followed suit when they saw them.

After about half a minute of silence, the first few demons could be seen emerging from the exit in front of them.

They all opened fire. The demons, having seen them, broke out of their march and charged at them, staffs gripped tight.

The first 15 or so demons fell before they reached the Devil Hunters and the surviving soldiers, but the rest stepped over the fallen and continued charging.

The Devil Hunters capable of swordplay ran forward to meet the demons. There were flashes of light as 'Untouchables' and 'Smell of Fears' were used. The Devil Hunters that had hung back were firing with new morale.

The pitiful few soldiers fired with reckless abandon for their lost comrades.

Every now and then there would be a splashing sound, swiftly followed by sizzling as Holy Water was flung.

Enzo roared as he parried a slash with his curved scimitar, then quickly swiped at the demon's armour-less neck.

A roar was his only warning as he ducked a sideways-slashed staff-blade, then spun and cut upwards at the demon, knocking it back. Before it could swipe again, he took out his pistol and shot off both knee-caps. The demon fell to the ground. Enzo gave the blade an unnecessary spin before driving it down into the defenceless demon.

He looked back at the other Hunters. So far, at least 10 were dead. Who, Enzo did not dare think about at the moment.

The occasional explosion informed him that Lady at least was still safe.

A statement in a language he couldn't understand to his left made him turn. There, with one side of the staff-blade pointed at him, was a large demon.

'_A captain…_' Enzo thought as he cursed under his breath.

He knocked the staff to the side with his scimitar, and was about to stab at the demon when it ducked, then swiftly swung the staff upwards, slicing a vertical line into Enzo.

Enzo was thrown off his feet, and landed hard onto the sandy ground. Had it not been for his Blue orbs, he would already have died.

The demon stood over him, _Nightmare-Alpha_ drawn and pointed at his head.

It said something in an amused tone to him.

Enzo couldn't understand, so he didn't respond.

Then, something unexpected happened. Instead of severe pain, then blankness, what seemed like the most random of noises could be heard.

Galloping. And, what sounded like a motorbike.

Fighting paused, the fighters looking at the ending of the clearing, at the aisles of tents.

Knights in blue armour mounted on black skinned, blue-plated horses with red eyes were charging into the clearing in front of the newly made entrance to the pyramid.

War cries were shouted, and blades pointed to the sky, as the Guardians of Vie De Marli joined the battle. Demons at the outskirts of the battle were trampled, as the Guardians refused to slow down, on the oversized horses that were not normal horses. They were the breed that was bred on the island with the Guardians, and used in all times of war by them. It was said that they were a gift from Sparda, who brought them from the Underworld.

Amid all the shouting, a new sound could clearly be heard over the rest; a whooping.

Dante was having the time of his life. He sped into the battle at top-speed, used the first demon he encountered as a ramp, running down the demon and shooting into the air. He then took Ebony and Ivory out of their holsters and rained fire down on demons below.

He landed on another demon, then hopped off.

An explosion occurred, and when the dust cleared, an amused Lady stood near him, Kalina Ann raised. A charred demon fell to the ground behind him.

"You'd better watch out, demon," she said as she raised a small pistol and emptied a cartridge on a captain nearby. It fell down dead, 8 bullets lodged in it's throat "A dramatic entrance doesn't make you invincible. Watch your back!"

"Yeah, well, in any case," Dante laughed as he unsheathed Rebellion and Alastor at the same time to dual wield them. He spun swiftly, swords pointing outwards, to cleave a demon in half "There's that bike I owe you that you've been bitching about!"

Nearby, Vergil was riding through the battle, Yamato held out, cutting through any demon at his right side. At one point, Robyn was nearby, and she tried to catch his eye, but he ignored her pointedly.

Tailor, however, had already dismounted. When he first saw the devil-horses, he felt misgivings on volunteering to accompany the twins on their charge. But, he had already told Granson that he would be going, and he didn't want to go back on what he said. Even though he knew how to ride a horse, he could only barely pull it off on his gigantic monster of one.

He was now on his feet, firing at all visible demons. His steed was wreaking havoc, stampeding around in his background.

* * *

_The Oval Office, the White House: -_

Raelson sat at his desk, grimacing at the papers laid before him by a triumphant looking Harold Larimore.

Bayle stood at his right side. Behind them both were two bodyguards.

"I'm afraid that these are all fact, Mr. President," Larimore, grinning broader than Raelson would have liked "The sources are all reliable. Now, the question now is what you're planning on doing about it"

Raelson blinked.

"_Do_ about it?"

"Yes," confirmed Larimore "Do about it. I'm afraid that if you don't immediately do something about this, I will send a copy of these papers to the media myself."

Bayle glared at Larimore.

"These two men, the two Spardas, are national heroes at the moment. With them, people think we have a plan and a chance of doing it. I know for a fact that they are who they say they are."

"Oh, really?" Larimore asked, his smile fading "And how is that?"

"I've seen their devil side. They really must be the sons of the knight Sparda."

"No, they don't necessarily," Larimore interjected "What that confirms is that they are the offspring of some demon and a foolish person. According to these papers, Vergil Sparda is dead, and Tony Redgrave is guilty of fraud. Or, Dante Sparda is guilty of fraud. Well, I suppose, if that is the case, at least _he _is really a son of Sparda. But, it can be assumed from these papers that Dante died, and Tony Redgrave took up his name in New York. You said that these men are definitely demon spawn. Let's let the media assume that some demon raped a human years ago."

Both Raelson and Bayle were too horrified to speak. One of the bodyguards gave Larimore a look of deepest disgust.

"A disgusting thought to consider, I know, and I can't bear to think about it either, but we can't be too careful. These men are not national heroes. They are both criminals, and deserve incarceration." Larimore continued, not looking remotely disgusted.

"All right, all right…" Raelson said "…I don't think I have a choice…"

"But, sir!" Bayle interrupted "How could you possibly-"

"Like I said, I don't have a choice." Raelson announced grimly "My term in office is practically over if the public find out that I know about this and am doing nothing. I'll send the orders now…

The men who call themselves Dante and Vergil Sparda are to be placed under arrest."

* * *

_Joe: Well, there we go, a nice big chapter for you, after all that waiting. I'll try to update sooner this time._

_And please review, I want to hear what you have to say about all this._

_Ciao._


	19. Forgotten Crimes

_Disclaimer:- I don't own a thing here that's copyrighted. If it's not copyrighted, then I own it, because I suppose someone has to._

_Joe: Yeah, yeah, long update. I suppose you're all used to it by now. I keep changing my mind on what happens next, and I keep deleting entire parts of the chapter and putting new bits in, which is the main reason why it's taken me so long. The story's gonna go on for what I'm guessing at least 10 more chapters._

_I'm not sure whether you consider that a good or bad thing, whether you just want an interesting end to come fast, or for the fic to keep going a fair bit longer until that happens._

_Because of my laziness, it's taken me so long that I have to repeat this: __**There will be nothing in this fic in relation to Devil May Cry 4.**__ Any piece of the DMC plot that comes out in it will be ignored in this, as well as any new characters. I haven't a PS3 or an X-box 360._

_You'll also notice that I've changed the name of the story to "__Devil May Cry: Hell's Frontline__". If you review, tell me what you think. I've always considered "__The Justice Within Two Evils__" to be a temporary name, as it wasn't the best of titles._

_This chapter was originally one part, but it was far too big, I decided. I halved it, and posted this one separately. That also means that I have the second part already prepared. I'll just wait a while until I post it. (You know, sending a lot of reviews might speed up the process, __**hint**__**hint**_

_So, without further ado, here we go, what you could possibly consider as the first chapter of "__Devil May Cry: Hell's Frontline__"_

* * *

Crìnge was in a chamber by himself, communicating with a captain-demon via it's glove.

"_Remember_," he said in Lìstook "_Leave the sons of Sparda alone, unless they engage you in combat themselves. At least then be proud that you died serving your kind._"

"_Of course, it is an honour serving the honour, Master,_" the captain replied, who was standing on the surface, in the maze in the exposed part of the pyramid "_It is not my place to ask questions, however, but may I enquire why we leave them alone? Surely you wish them dead as soon as possible?_"

"_Not entirely._" Crìnge replied.

"_Wh-" _the captain began, but was cut off as Crìnge continued.

"_I have plans for the two. Dante, the one in red - but of course, forgive me, you can't see…"_

He trailed off. The captain politely waited.

"_Well, there are two of them. Vergil is the one who's aura is similar to mine. Dante is the other, who will more likely be firing firearms. If Vergil gets close to the entrance, let the two captains standing guard bring him in."_

The captain was confused.

"_Of course, Master, but-"_

"_I told you I have plans for them, especially him. You are wondering how to bring him in? Let them tell him that I wish to speak with him. He understands our language. He recognised me before - I know it. I scanned his head, he has read most of Sparda's diary. He will want to know more about his father, and me. He should come in without any particular trouble."_

The captain nodded.

"_And what of the other one, Dante?_"

"_Just keep him busy. If he gets in the way while Vergil is with me, he will ruin everything."_

* * *

The battle raged on, both sides suffering huge losses.

Vergil focused and formed a transparent blue sword in the air beside him. He aimed it, and it shot into the neck of a nearby demon soldier.

He stopped still to take in his surroundings. Bullets of various colours and textures were riddling the air, flashes emitting from firearms of both humans and demons.

He gazed at what was left of the nearby pyramid of Khufu.

The bottom half of the pyramid was all that remained on the ground. But, rather than a perfectly even half of the pyramid on the ground, there were pieces missing; chunks were missing at corresponding intervals, forming an entrance to the pyramid on each of the four sides.

He knew that inside the pyramid was the Order, the band of all the elite demons of the Underworld. Among them was his uncle, Crìnge.

There were questions he yearned to ask, things he needed to know.

Well, there was only one way to go to get those questions answered.

He was broken momentarily from these thoughts as yet another demon shrieked and dived at him, staff spinning sinisterly.

Vergil rolled to the side. The demon's blade whirred through the air uncomfortably close to Vergil's hair as the demon sped past. It landed on it's stomach two feet away. Vergil took out Betsy and fired a salvo of bullets at the back of the demons helmet. There were pangs at first as the helmet deflected the bullets. A nearby howl of pain informed Vergil that a ricocheting bullet hit another demon in an enamoured place.

But, after about two seconds of continuous fire, the sturdy demonic metal on the helmet wore away and the bullets penetrated to blow chunks of the demon's head off.

Vergil turned to the pyramid again, and knew in an instant what he had to do.

It wasn't that far away, only 20, maybe 25 feet away. The only problem was that every inch separating him from the pyramid was occupied by soldiers, demons, devil hunters, the Guardians of Vie De Marli, and some of the dismounted demonic horses parading around the place.

His brow creased. This could take a while.

* * *

In the bottom chamber of the pyramid, the Order were waiting and watching the obelisk's progress upwards. The top of it was now beyond the roof of the chamber.

Joel sat in a heap by himself, looking at the centre. Although the top of the obelisk was out of his line of sight, the base of the obelisk that was coming from the hole in the centre of the room just seemed to keep coming.

He turned his attention to the blade in his hand. It was the short sword that Crìnge gave him. Not big enough to be a sword, too long to be a knife. The white gem at the hilt glinted eerily. Joel squinted.

"Bah!"

He jumped. In the gem, for a second, he thought he saw a face. It was gone now, gone as quickly as it had come.

He sighed and put the blade in a sheath at his waist. It seemed that everything in this place was alive. He could feel a presence constantly. It wasn't the other demons of the order in the chamber, he was sure of that. Once, when he was permitted to take an exploratory stroll around the place, he still felt it. The ever-present, ill-wishing presence.

Crìnge had told him of the truth behind the "Mummy's Curse". Reckless archaeologists who ventured into the pyramids would feel the same presence as they entered the chambers. The Order had created a clan of guardians for each pyramid. They were bodiless creatures that could flit through walls and beings, but become solid when they wished to slaughter their prey with their razor sharp claws. But the more conventional method was to stalk their prey endlessly, and if the prey was sensible it would sense the presence and leave immediately. Those who dared to go on would be cursed by the guardian (and eventually die within the next year as they slowly rotted), or skinned alive by the demon (if deemed a suitable specimen) and kept alive by the clan of guardians, only to be sacrificed at the end of the current month to the Order along with any other humans the guardians caught within that time frame.

As well as that, if the guardians decided to let the humans excitedly make their way to the burial chamber, or if they had merely placed the slow acting curse on the human, the human(s) would be confronted by yet another horror; the mummified bodies of the Egyptian pharaohs. As Crìnge had earlier explained, the Pharaohs were under demonic manipulation, and had instructed their people to perform certain rituals with their body when they died. These rituals, involving the removal of the brain through the nose, etc., was what turned the dead body of the pharaoh into a form of battery. Once left in the crypt, the pharaoh became a source of power for the very pyramid made in his/her honour, for when the pyramids would be of use to the Order and execute their primary function.

However, the rituals with the dead body also had other effects. For instance, if a member of the Order commanded it, the mummified pharaoh would come to life and purge it's crypt of any life. With the relationship between the pyramid guardians and the Order, the guardians could call on the Order to activate the mummies, to purge the pyramid of humans that the guardians had let into the pharaohs chamber.

Pontius had butted in and assured a shaking Joel that the guardians would not dream of attacking him. They would keep a watch on him, as was their duty, but apparently Pontius had given explicit orders to the head of the guardian clan of this pyramid to not attack him.

Despite understanding the unseen presence, it still unnerved Joel to no end.

He walked over to Pontius and greeted him in Lìstook, which Crìnge had taught him (instantaneously, with a light emitting from his third, diamond-like eye and a click of his fingers).

Pontius' eyes glinted, where a normal person would have smiled.

"_Very good. Crìnge knew what he was doing. I was sick of having to talk in that human language to you - kept pausing a lot, I'm not sure if you noticed or not"_

Joel frowned.

"_What pausing? I didn't notice anything._" Joel lied "_So…how long is left?_"

Pontius looked up.

"_About half an hour or so. The top has come up, and our troops are moving out to clear out the humans and traitors outside."_

"_But I thought-"_ Joel said uncertainly "_-that you and Crìnge said that the humans would make it in._"

"_I have no doubt that they will._" Pontius replied _"But what kind of demons would we be if we did not even try to stop them? Remember your training, that's all I'll say._"

Joel nodded, then looked at the obelisk, making it's slow, but sure, traversal upwards.

* * *

Vergil was almost at the entrance to the pyramid. It was taking quite a while to get there, as he had to fight his bloody way there.

He could see the huge stone gateway feet away, two of the captain demons standing guard.

Vergil took in a deep breath, then gripped his katana in one hand, Force Edge in the other. He sped at an unbelievable speed towards them, faster than the human eye could watch him go. Yamato was outstretched in his right hand.

The demons saw him coming.

The demon that Vergil was about to cut in half flipped into the air, spinning as it went, traversing through the air behind Vergil. It's staff-blade would have sliced into the back of Vergil's head while he was caught off guard, but Vergil only barely managed to avoid it. The blade cut deep into his left shoulder.

"Agh!" Vergil cried out in pain and annoyance, then twirled Force Edge and sliced it horizontally through the air to slice into the demon that just landed on it's feet. The demon dodged backwards in a Matrix-esque style.

The other demon smacked Vergil face first to the ground with the pole in the middle of the staff.

The two demons stood over him, Vergil's shoulder still steaming.

One roared and raised it's staff high, intent on bringing it swiftly down and impaling Vergil.

The other brought it's hand up to stop it's comrade.

"_Stop…do you not see who this is?_"

The other demon stayed it's blade.

"_The aura similar to the Masters… …Vergil, son of Sparda._"

The demon brought it's staff down to it's side. The other offered a hand to Vergil.

Vergil blinked. These captains had been told to give him special attention. He did not know why, but there had to be a good reason. He looked at the gauntlet covered hand with suspicion. He did not like the thought of taking a peace offering from what was still a lesser demon compared to him. It is not within most demons ability to show mercy, and peace offerings were generally traps; if he took that hand, would the demon fling him into the air and stab him?

But, then again, the demon had stopped the other from killing him. It wouldn't do that just to kill Vergil in a slightly different way.

Vergil sighed heavily, then accepted the hand.

The demon helped him to his feet.

"_Our Master, Crìnge, seeks your audience."_

Vergil's eyes widened. Crìnge! The brother of Sparda! Vergil had thousands of questions that he wished to ask Crìnge.

He nodded at the demon.

"_Fine then. Take me to him._" he ordered in Lìstook.

He felt back in command, he being the superior demon (although outnumbered, which, he learned earlier, was quite a problem when the captain demons are concerned).

The two demons flanked him; one going on either side of him. They led him into the entrance of the pyramid, into the maze that led to the entrance downwards, into the heart of the pyramid.

Several feet away, Robyn could not believe her eyes. The demons had taken Vergil prisoner!

She knew that, no matter what others said, Vergil was only one man, and shouldn't be putting himself into the dangers he always flung himself into.

**BOOM!**

A nearby explosion, which was presumably a blast from Kalina Ann, blew all nearby demons (and quite a few Guardians) off their feet.

Seizing her opportunity, Robyn ran off after Vergil while there were no demons able to resist her.

She came to the entrance to the pyramid. There was a path forward, and to her left and right.

Thinking quickly, she deducted that the way downwards would be near the centre of the maze. She ran forwards.

The ground was stone, like the rest of the pyramid, but since the ceiling of the pyramid was levitating high up in the sky, occasional gusts of wind blew sand into the maze-like corridors. Remembering her training, she tracked down the demons by their footprints.

She stopped and caught her breath upon reaching another split in the maze. She had no idea whereabouts she was in the vast pyramid. She did not know in which direction the centre was.

But she knew she had to move fast. Vergil could be being tortured, or worse by now. Taking a deep breath, she broke into a sprint again.

_Nearby:_

The two demons halted. Vergil stopped with them, knowing why they stopped. He could sense someone nearby.

"_I will take care of it" _one of them spoke as it dematerialised into thin air. Vergil could see it's footprints head down the corridor and turn a bend.

Vergil blinked. He knew that it was a human that was in the pyramid with them, but he couldn't think of who it could possibly be, who could be foolish enough to go after them, and for what purpose?

The demon and he stayed where they were, waiting for the other to return.

Robyn halted where she was, and she stooped down to regain her breath again. Doubt spread across her features. Was she making a grave mistake?

She had no idea whereabouts she was, or where Vergil was. Not only that, she had not focused where she was going. She didn't remember the way out. As well as gusts of wind blowing sand into the maze, it also eradicated trails in the sand that was previously there. She couldn't turn back.

She darted up suddenly. She heard something.

Robyn clasped her M666 (A new model of the classic assault rifle. Not originally called the M666, but it had earned that nickname) and scanned her surroundings. She couldn't see anybody else in the passageway.

This only worried her further, as she knew that the demon soldiers could camouflage themselves.

She heard a rustle about a yard behind her.

She spun around, but couldn't see anybody.

Robyn turned her attention to the ground, to the sand. Footprints were forming, seemingly by themselves, in her direction.

She rose her gun swiftly and emptied a clip.

The demon shrieked when it saw Robyn raise her firearm, but couldn't do anything in time as bullets pounded into it's armour.

It fell to the ground and materialised. It's chest plate was heavily battered, and there were holes where bullets had penetrated.

It was still breathing, though.

Robyn stepped over it's body and pointed her M666 at it.

With a flash of light, red electricity surged through the demon, and it spun it's legs, tripping Robyn up and lifting itself off the ground.

Robyn gasped as her weapon flew out of her hands and she fell face first onto the hard ground.

The demon gave a roar of fury, and Robyn felt her blood chill.

She rolled over onto her back to see the demon raise it's staff-blade, in a similar fashion as it had done to Vergil.

Thinking quickly, Robyn rolled over again, and the blade was imbedded into the ground.

While the demon tugged at the blade to get it out of the ground, Robyn got to her feet. She reached onto her lower leg, above her boot. Beneath her right trouser leg was a strap with a pistol attached. Withdrawing it, she aimed at the demon's head and fired.

_Clang!_

The bullet ricocheted off, leaving nothing but a minor dent in the helm.

The demon-captain gave up on retrieving it's weapon, then leaped over to Robyn and grabbed her pistol. Robyn gave one last fire before the demon wrested it from her grip. The bullet hit the revealed part of the demons upper bicep, with the tattoo. It didn't do much damage.

She watched as the demon crushed the pistol in it's gauntlet covered hand, then flung away what remained; a cube-like hunk of metal.

The demon grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and lifted her off her feet, up to his level, then he gave a bloodcurdling roar in her face. There was a slight echo from the inside of the helm. Robyn was shaking, but kept her lips firmly sealed.

The demon turned to the corridor wall, and was about to crush her against it when Robyn got a hold of herself and thrust her foot at a random part of the demon in a bid to defend herself.

She kicked the demons leg, and caused it to trip and drop her.

They both fell to the ground.

The red electricity stopped flowing from the demon.

There was silence.

Gasping, Robyn slowly brought herself to her feet, and then grimaced at what happened to the demon.

The demon had fallen onto the blade it had left protruding from the ground, the blade coming through it's chest. Since all the soldiers of sin had double-edged blades, on each end of their staffs, the demon had been killed.

A horrible smell came from the demon, and steam was billowing out of where the blade had come through.

She inspected herself. There were scars on her neck, where the demon had grabbed her by with it's spiked gauntlet. But, fortunately, there were no fatal injuries.

She picked up her M666, which lay on the ground nearby, then pressed on.

Back with Vergil, the other demon had started muttering profanely in Lìstook. It had sensed that it's comrade had fallen.

Vergil could sense it too. He was impressed. The human had exceeded his expectations - he never would have believed that a human could possibly kill a captain-demon.

He turned to the other demon.

"_Let me take care of the human."_

The demon, if it had eyes, and if it was not wearing a helmet/mask, would have given Vergil a mistrustful glance. It stayed silent for a moment, in thought.

This was good enough to give Vergil the message.

"_Do not worry. If I did not want to go with you, I would not have co-operated thus far,_" he assured the demon.

The demon nodded.

"_Very well_," it replied "_But do not take your time. Time is not something we have an abundance of this day._"

The demon gestured towards the levitating peak of the pyramid above, which was still absorbing a constant blast of red electricity from each of the neighbouring pyramids.

Vergil turned and strolled down the corridor, following the path that the deceased captain-demon had taken. He could sense whereabouts the human was, and so he knew which paths to take. He wanted to see this human himself. He was mystified at the thought that a human was powerful enough to defeat a captain-demon one-to-one.

Robyn had slowed down to a walking pace. She realised that she was going nowhere fast, and that thought was required if she was to follow Vergil's captors.

She must be nearing the centre, she thought. She had been in these corridors for a while, and if she had not emerged on another side of the pyramid yet, then she must be on the right track to finding the centre, she figured.

She heard footsteps from around a bend nearby. She gritted her teeth and aimed her M666 at the bend as she slowly approached it.

The figure was walking rather slowly. Each footstep was fractionally louder than the last, and Robyn could see a shadow forming on the wall opposite the corner, gradually becoming larger.

Just when she was a few feet away from the bend, the figure emerged from around the corner.

"Vergil," she sighed in relief "Thank God."

She lowered her weapon.

Vergil continued walking slowly towards her, his expression blank, yet his eyes analysing her silently.

"I was so worried about you," Robyn continued, smiling.

Vergil remained silent, yet still approached slowly.

Well, thought Robyn. This was the chance she was waiting for. She was alone with Vergil, and could have a heart-to-heart talk with him. She was also sure that she had heard Dante saying that Vergil had feelings for her.

Vergil put his hand on his sheath by his hip as he drew near.

Robyn frowned. Something was wrong.

"Vergil-?"

There was a swift swish. Robyn's eyes weren't fast enough to see what hit her.

A second after Robyn had called Vergil's name, there was a flicker of light, Vergil's hand became a blur, then went above his sheath as he slowly returned Yamato.

She felt unimaginable pain on her chest, where she could feel a horizontal gash spread across it, but it was only just freshly formed.

With a _thud_ Yamato went into it's sheath.

Blood gushed freely out of her chest as if on cue, and she fell to the ground.

Vergil looked down at her pitilessly, his expression remaining blank.

This was the woman that Dante had teased him about. Teased him that he had feelings for her. Vergil narrowed his eyes as a pool of blood formed around her body.

Foolishness.

He had no feelings for this woman, despite what others might have thought.

This insolent human had dared try to get in the way with Vergil's meeting with Crìnge, the only remaining relative of Vergil's apart from Dante. The only one who could possibly understand him. Crìnge, who had lived in the shadow of his brother's greatness, like Vergil himself.

Turning his back on Robyn's moaning body, Vergil walked back in the direction of the other captain demon.

* * *

Outside the pyramid, the battle had finally turned in the favour of the humans.

The Guardians, devil hunters, and remaining soldiers were finishing off the remainder of the soldiers of sin and the Spitter demons that had stopped popping out of the ground, and were now running out.

Not only that, _HellBane_ copters were swooping in at minute-long intervals, dropping down human reinforcements, as well as providing air support before flying off.

The occasional explosion on the battlefield (that was not of Lady's doing) signalled the arrival of a tank, as the tents that surrounded the clearing were now falling apart, the power that had previously held them up now fading away for some reason. This meant that the tanks could now get passage through the sand dunes.

Dante stood back as he admired the work of his comrades, Alastor crackling in one hand, the two rubies on Rebellions hilt glowing ominously on the other (the two jewels on it that form the eyes of the demon head that the hilt depicts).

Lady stood nearby, pistol held in one outstretched hand as she fired at random demons.

She stopped only when she ran out of ammo. She emptied the hollow clip, then reached for her belt. Her fingers grasped thin air. She frowned.

"Everything okay?" Dante asked.

She smiled grimly at him.

"Out of ammo," she said, then she placed the pistol tenderly into a holder on her belt "I'm afraid that's it for me."

Dante gave a small chuckle, mainly to himself.

"Well, it doesn't look like there's enough left to worry about anyway," Dante said.

This much was true, the last 5 of the soldiers of sin had come together and went back-to-back, their blades held out. Even now they still continued to fight. Admirable, thought some of the humans. But, then again, maybe it was not within their capabilities to forfeit, or to feel fear. An emotion purposefully left out by their makers.

Dante placed his two blades on his back, and took into account the amount of soldiers present. If the force they had now were here when this fight began, there would have been far less losses. Trust Granson to stall like this.

"Have you seen Vergil anywhere?"

"What-?" Dante blurted.

He had become wrapped up in his thoughts, and Tailor seemed to just appear beside him.

"I - no, I haven't" Dante said uncertainly.

Tailor looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he laughed.

Dante raised an eyebrow.

"Don't suppose you've seen Robyn either?" he explained.

Dante joined him in his laughter.

The two of them laughed for a while, as the last demon was shot down.

* * *

Granson's phone rang. He excused himself to the other Generals assembled in the tent in a monotone, then exited and stood outside the entrance flap.

"General Granson speaking."

"Granson -"

It was Bayle. Granson's forehead creased. He interrupted her.

"Bayle. What the hell do you want?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line. Bayle was apparently trying to keep her cool.

"Shut your Goddamn mouth for once in your life Granson, and listen to what I have to say -"

She wasn't trying hard enough, evidently.

" - I wouldn't ring you unless it was urgent, and you should know that," she finished hotly.

Granson sniffed indignantly.

"Fine. Shoot."

"It's…it's about the twins."

She paused. Granson could tell that this wasn't going to be good news. He waited for her to talk again.

"…they're…they're to be put under arrest."

Granson's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"_What?!_ Why?! What's going on?!"

"There's something strange going on here, Granson. _Larimore_-" Her voice heated up again " -has gotten hold of what looks like genuine evidence that the twins aren't who they say they are."

"Bullshit."

"That's what I thought too, but we can't prove it wrong. If we don't act on this and let it go unnoticed, Larimore will use this to help him become president. We have to arrest them."

"Bayle," Granson replied "Larimore's gonna use this whether we arrest them or not. The fact that we've been supporting them for this long is enough for him. You've seen how he can manipulate these minor slip-ups, which he will exaggerate as flaws of Raelson."

Bayle took in a deep breath.

"…I know that, Granson, but this is the least we can do."

"But, the twins are out on the battlefield right now, I can't just pull them in, they're too much of an asset for us."

There was silence as both Bayle and Granson went deep into thought.

"Granson." This time Bayle's voice was pleading. "I know this is hard to take in, but we can't just leave it be and hope it all goes away. We were doing that for far too long before. Then the twins came along woke us up. It's been proven that things don't work that way. But, we have to at least try, we can't, we just _can't_ let Larimore win this election. I don't know what that - that - that _bastard_ is going to do when he becomes president."

Granson nodded.

"I suppose you're right there, Bayle…I'll send the order for them to placed under arrest…but I don't fancy the chances of whoever's job it is to do it."

* * *

_Joe: There we go, at long last._

_Well, I've said all I need to say before._

_Remember, I might consider posting the next chapter sooner if you all review._

_Till then,_

_Ciao._


	20. In the Obelisk Chamber p1

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that's copyrighted. I own all of these original characters, but I can't really take action if you claim them yourself. Except bitch like hell, and you don't want me to do that._

* * *

The army of the humans were at ease outside the pyramid. Every demon in sight had been vanquished, and they were awaiting further orders.

They all knew that they were expected to do something with the pyramid, but they were glad that they didn't have to go any nearer to it than they were at the moment, as a single glance at it made the humans feel uneasy, and made the Guardians feel even worse as they knew what was going on.

Things had only gotten worse when the soldiers saw something rise from what looked like the centre of the pyramid. The obelisk was nearing it's destination.

Tailor was by himself, on one knee, a radio to his head. Granson was on the other side.

"I'm going to send the orders for Dante and Vergil to be arrested," Granson spoke, his voice urgent.

Tailor opened his mouth hotly, but Granson continued before he got a chance to say anything.

"I'll wait a few minutes - that'll give you a chance to warn them to escape. Do it quickly. I don't know what tricks they'll have under their sleeves, but they seem to be good at getting out of sticky situations. Over"

Tailor closed his mouth and inhaled slowly. Granson hadn't specified as to why the twins were under arrest in the first place, but the fact that he was stalling like this meant that it wasn't his idea, and that he was with the twins.

"Understood" Tailor confirmed, then he added "…actually, no, not really understood at all, but I'll follow orders. It'll be difficult, though; we can't find Vergil. Over"

"What? Where's he gone? Over"

"If I knew that, we wouldn't have a problem. Why are they to be put under arrest anyway?" Tailor said, forgetting to say 'over'.

The sound of gritting teeth on the other end let Tailor know that Granson was under stress. Tailor was unsure whether this was because of the question asked or his forgetting to say 'over'.

"…it's Larimore." Granson answered "He's got Raelson by the balls. And us, for that matter. He's found evidence that Dante and Vergil aren't who they say they are-"

"Bullshit!"

Granson stalled.

"I'm sorry," Tailor said "But I just find it hard to-"

"I understand you completely, Tailor. But the evidence is solid. I don't doubt that the twins are in fact the twins, but what Larimore has proved that they lied to the Government as to who they are at some stage - Dante, at least."

"I don't get you."

"Larimore's got proof that either Dante is a man called Tony Redgrave, or that he called himself that for a few years."

"Tony Redgrave…he told me that Tony was a friend of his…" Tailor murmured angrily.

"He's got proof that Vergil 'died' years ago," Granson said grimly "as there's no trace of him anywhere for years."

"That's because-"

"I know. But Larimore doesn't believe that. Neither will just about everybody else in America. Anyway, about the situation-"

"What about the twins-?"

"We're wasting time." Granson interrupted, a little irritation evident in his voice "We'll talk about it later. Right now, you're to warn the twins. Like I was saying, about the situation; let the troops be for the time being. Just tell them to keep alert, though. We all know that these demons work in strange ways - there could be more at any time. We're waiting until we get further intel on the pyramid before we move in. Over and out"

Tailor kept the radio to his head for a few moments after Granson hung up, deep in thought. The twins were under arrest! What should he do? How could this happen? 

Also, they can't do anything in terms of the pyramid without the sons of Sparda's knowledge. 

But, then again, they were under orders to keep still anyway.

"What's the situation?" came a voice behind him.

Tailor turned and found Dante standing behind him.

"How long have you been there?" Tailor asked uneasily as he stood up.

"Just got here now…why?" he added, noticing Tailor's expression.

Tailor tensed and gritted his teeth, wondering how to put it.

After a moment, he sighed and said;

"They're putting you and Vergil under arrest. You'd better get outta here-"

"Wha-!"

"Dante, please. Let me finish."

Dante went quiet, but looked infuriated.

"We're to find Vergil and get you both away, I don't know how. Do it soon, and do it without attracting attention. The US army is a hundred percent behind it, if any soldier sees where you're going, he's gonna inform HQ. In fact, if somebody sees me talking to you now and realises you escaped later, I could be court marshalled…"

Dante and Tailor looked at each other for a moment, wordlessly. Nothing more needed to be said. Tailor looked away, unable to look at Dante's face.

Dante then looked at the pyramid for a moment, still silent. Tailor looked back at him, avoiding eye contact.

He didn't look angry anymore, but confused, and a little…scared? Tailor hadn't seen him look like that before, and it unnerved him. 

"No." Dante announced after a long pause.

"What?" Tailor asked.

"I'm not going. There's too much going on here. There are things I have to do, people I have to meet." Dante explained, also planning on talking to Crìnge.

"Dante -" Tailor said, his voice fearful "You've got to go."

"No, I don't." Dante insisted, still looking at the pyramid with a grim face "We're going in now."

Tailor frowned at him.

"We're not. I just got direct orders to stay put. They're waiting for more information on the pyramid. They want to know what's coming before they go in."

"Well, I know what's coming, and if we don't hurry, things are just going to get much, much worse. Hell's gonna break loose, and I mean that literally." Dante said, still not looking at Tailor.

"You'll be going alone." Tailor told him "As of a few minutes ago, you and Vergil are completely alone. Any soldier that goes with you is risking their own safety, and they'll all be court marshalled. You can't go in."

Dante finally turned to face him, angry again after realising what Tailor was saying.

"I'm not going alone, whether you're with me or not, it doesn't make a difference," Dante snarled "There are plenty of devil hunters here, and Guardians-"

"The Guardians are credited to the US army," Tailor corrected him "They follow our orders. As will the devil hunters."

Dante narrowed his eyes at Tailor.

"You don't get it. We wait much longer, then the demons will get what they want. The war will pretty much be over. Demons will multiply like you haven't seen before, and all the more powerful. The entire army here will be slaughtered - and every other one will follow after that! We attack now, or we die later."

Tailor stood still, unyielding.

"We go in now, we die anyway. You don't know what's in there!" he barked at Dante.

"Didn't you hear me?" Dante retaliated, once again looking eye to eye with Tailor "Whatever's _in _there will be coming _out_ if we stall, only all the more powerful! You're going to get slaughtered like vermin!"

"You're not going in, Dante, no matter what you say," Tailor said, going quieter, but as angry as ever "If you try, we'll stop you."

The air around Dante crackled with red electricity when he turned away from Tailor and started storming away.

Tailor sighed.

"Dante, you know that I want to go with you - but I can't. Orders are orders. I've to do my duty." he called after Dante.

The half-demon stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"If you gave a shit about anything, you'd be ignoring what HQ tells you to do," he spat.

Tailor looked stricken.

"You know that's not true. There's nothing I can do, Dante,"

Dante shook his head.

"And _you_ know _that's_ not true. Just waiting here is your own decision, Tailor. You yourself are a General, and can make your own orders. It's your own damn decision what you do."

"No, it's not," Tailor contradicted "The orders are coming from HQ - Granson, and Granson's getting orders from Raelson, our commander-in-chief."

Dante paused just as he was about to say something. He closed his mouth and went silent. Tailor walked up to him and put his hand on Dante's shoulder, then looked him in the eye.

"I get it. You have to do this," he said quietly, almost whispering "Go now, and take whoever will go with you. I haven't informed the soldiers about you yet. Just know that, the moment you come outta that pyramid - if you ever come outta that pyramid - they're gonna arrest you."

"I know," Dante replied, just as softly.

"…I expect…that this is the last we'll see of each other," Tailor stated, a little sadly.

Dante put his shoulder on the opposite side of Tailor.

"It's been good fighting with you, David."

Tailor gave a small smile, then the two parted.

The two just stood still and looked at each other for a moment, then Dante turned again and walked away.

* * *

Crìnge was sitting on the throne in the large room where the Order had lounged when they first entered the pyramid, although this time he was alone. His hood was thrown back, but he was still wearing the black robe.

By his side was a large broadsword, the large, black one that he had used in Vie De Marli. Every now and then there would be a slight hiss as a small cloud of blue steam billowed from it. The black on it seemed to be constantly flowing, as if it were alive, and liquid, yet still remained pristinely smooth.

Crìnge had his attention directed at the gargantuan double doors opposite him. A long, red carpet led from his throne to the doors. Crìnge could sense demons on the other side.

He smiled to himself. His plan was coming into place. Not the plan of world domination, that was a separate scheme. This plan was his own, and no other member of the Order knew of it, nor did they need to know. It was of no relevance to them, nor was it any of their concern. This is what Crìnge had been doing the many years before the way started. And it was nearing it's completion, after many, many long years, decades, of work. For a while now it had seemed that it had failed, but things were looking up again.

With an audible creak, the doors opened, although there was nobody pushing them. Just outside the door were the surviving captain-demon and Vergil.

Yamato was sheathed, and Betsy was in the pocket inside his long, blue coat. Force Edge was on his back, and Beowulf was on his arms and legs.

He strolled slowly towards Crìnge, who had stood up from the large throne to greet Vergil.

"Vergil Sparda, here you are at last," Crìnge announced in English as Vergil drew near.

"I am honoured," Vergil replied, bowing his head.

Crìnge turned to the captain.

"_Leave us_," he ordered in Lìstook.

The captain bowed low and departed. The double doors creaked shut as it left.

"Where do I begin?" Crìnge mused, smiling. Vergil remained politely silent.

"It has been a long, long time before I last saw you under quiet circumstances…" Crìnge said.

Vergil would have frowned had he not controlled himself.

"You have seen me before the war?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Crìnge answered "When you were young, and your father was alive. Such a pity, how he died…"

"Do you know how he died?" Vergil asked, almost excitedly.

Crìnge gave him a sad look.

"Your father…he was murdered. By a very powerful demon."

Vergil looked crestfallen.

"He was defeated?" Vergil said, a statement to himself more than a question "I always thought that my father was one of the most powerful demons in existence. Arrogance, I suppose, but it was what I was always led to believe…"

"Oh, how he was," Crìnge stated "But, alas, he didn't lose in a fair fight. He refused to take up arms. Foolish, and naïve…"

He went silent for a while, as did Vergil. Vergil had so many questions on his father, and on power, and on demonic origins…

"And you yourself, used to be a powerful warrior…" Crìnge added, his eye twinkling.

Vergil raised his eyebrows, unable to contain himself.

"_Used_ to be?" he inquired.

"Used to be," confirmed Crìnge "You are no longer a warrior of any sort. You gave up the honour you once had,"

"I did no such thing!" Vergil boldly exclaimed "I am as powerful as I ever was-"

"You may fool yourself, son, but you aren't fooling me," Crìnge said sagely "You do not have the honour and dignity you once had. You are now a soldier; no warrior, a pawn of the humans, a tool of the Government."

Vergil was at a loss for words. He looked down at the ground, unable to deny what Crìnge had said. He had completely deserted his previous training, taken up firearms, killed without fighting face-to-face.

Crìnge let Vergil reflect for a minute. He then said, in carefully measured tones;

"It is never to late, Vergil, to once again walk the path you long ago deserted."

Vergil looked back up at Crìnge. He nodded.

Vergil reached inside his coat, then took Betsy out.

He snapped it in two with his bare hands, and flung the pieces to the ground.

"Good," Crìnge said "Now that you're ready, are you willing to follow my teachings? I can mould you back into a warrior, yet greater than ever before. With my help, you can become a warrior feared by all."

Vergil couldn't believe what he was hearing. Crìnge, the twin brother of Sparda, offering to train Vergil into everything Vergil had ever wanted. Everything he had ever strive for, what he always aspired to become.

"I would be honoured," Vergil answered, meaning every word.

"Good," Crìnge repeated.

"What exactly will you be teaching me?" Vergil asked.

"Technique, focus, how to control your power…" he began.

"How will I get power?" Vergil cut across him.

"No, you don't understand," Crìnge stated, shaking his head "The power has always been inside, dormant. What you never had, was the means of controlling that power, the medium which you channel the power, how to awaken that power."

"I know what it is - I have it here," Vergil said, then reached for his back and showed Crìnge Force Edge "Sparda's blade - at least, the simplest form of it."

Crìnge beckoned for Vergil to hand it to him, which Vergil did. It glinted red upon coming into contact with Crìnge's fingers. Crìnge smiled as he inspected it.

"I have not seen this in many years…how pathetic it is, with only a fraction of it's power present." 

"I have one half of the amulet," Vergil stated.

"It does not matter," Crìnge responded, placing Force Edge on the throne "This is not the means of using your power. This is the means of using Sparda's power - and even if you awakened his sword, you still would not have nearly the strength that Sparda himself would have wielding it. Yes, there is a vast amount of power in the sword, and yes, since Sparda's blood is in you, but you are not Sparda. Because of that, the sword will never work fully for you. Not even as much as it works for your brother, although, the same can be said for him."

"Why does it work better for Dante?"

"Well…" Crìnge began, then sighed "…you see, it will take a long time to fully explain, but in basics, it's genetics. It's in the family that twins will always be born. Other characteristics are passed along, also. Each of the twins will receive different traits. In a set pattern. Your brother, Dante, is more genetically identical to your father, Sparda. His true successor, in many ways."

Vergil looked troubled at this, but Crìnge continued.

"And you, are the being most identical to me, seconded only by one of my sons, if I ever have any. The other of my sons will end up being similar to Sparda. Do you follow what I am saying?"

Vergil nodded.

"So, in basics, Dante only gets the full effects of Sparda's sword because he's more like Sparda than I am."

"Almost. He does benefit from the affects of the sword more so than you do, but does not enjoy the full power. Like I said, it's the sword that Sparda used to attain his full potential, not Dante, nor you. Likewise -" Crìnge gestured towards the blue-tinged black broadsword leaning by the throne "You will be able to wield my sword more efficiently than your twin ever could. You and I are similar."

"That's why you brought me here," Vergil deduced "because you felt that we have a special connection."

Crìnge beamed at him, which surprised Vergil.

"Correct. I felt it a shame that two such as we be on opposite sides of such a bloody war, and decided to rectify that."

"I'm glad you did."

"As am I, my young friend, as am I"

They went quiet, again. 

Crìnge looked like he had just remember something he had forgotten.

"How foolish of me, I had forgotten. As I was saying, you need to find a way to focus your power. You see, our fighting prowess lies not in our swordsmanship - excessive, though it may be, it is in our minds where we prevail over our brothers."

"Our minds?" Vergil sounded doubtful.

"Our minds. Have you not noticed how your intelligence exceeds that of Dante's?"

"It has occurred to me, yes…" Vergil modestly agreed, unable to suppress a smirk.

"And you never thought of focusing your demonic power through this advantage. It is in the other side of the lineage where fighting skills are the strength of the power - one of the reasons you could not defeat your brother thus far. Where he could slay any demon with a sword in his hand, you could do so with nothing at all save your mind."

Vergil's eyes widened as he was told why Dante had always bested him. He had nightmares about his supposed inferiority - the light he chased in the dreams, where Dante always snatched it from under his nose. Foolish, he came to realise.

* * *

The situation was terrible outside.

Dante had entered the maze, accompanied with the devil hunters. The Guardians had announced their allegiance with Dante - they had sworn to fight for the Son of Sparda, and they were under no circumstances about to desert him.

Unfortunately, this boded badly for the Guardians. The soldiers had informed about Dante by a grim looking Tailor (who made sure that Dante was out of sight and range before he did so), and the soldiers informed HQ about the Guardian's mutiny.

High-ranking soldiers had just arrived, demanding to see Dante and Vergil. Tailor calmly informed them that the Sons of Sparda were nowhere to be seen, and that he had no idea where they were.

The soldiers were intelligent enough to guess that Dante and Vergil were gone to enter the pyramid, and informed HQ. HQ decided that they should go after the twins.

At this stage, the Guardians blockaded the entrance to the pyramid while Dante and the Devil Hunters moved on.

Tailor announced via loudspeaker that if the Guardians did not move, action would be taken. The Guardians did no such thing.

Then, all hell broke loose. The soldiers fired at the Guardians, and the Guardians retaliated violently.

The Guardians of Vie De Marli were now the US army's primary target for the time being, and the soldiers shot to kill at their former comrades.

All the while, the obelisk ascended ever higher, becoming increasingly close to the elevated roof of the pyramid. As this happened, Dante and his retinue traversed the maze, in an attempt to access the lower levels and stop the demon plot.

* * *

"Holy Shit…"

"Sweet _Jesus_."

"Where's Dante? - Get Dante!"

"I'm here, I'm here, what's the ma-…"

Dante fell silent. He was at the centre of a large circle of Devil Hunters. There were about 130 Devil Hunters who had been brought into Egypt, and they all decided to go with Dante. 

Dante himself was crouched on one knee, inspecting what was on the ground before him.

Robyn's corpse.

The sand around her body was tainted a reddish black.

He held her and rose her slightly up, just enough to get a better look at her condition. There was a thin, but deep, gash slicing across her chest. The bullet-proof armour pads on her uniform were cleaved through. 

"What could have done something like this?" Pike queried "A soldier of sin couldn't have done that."

There were some murmurs of agreement.

"The wound would be septic if it was - there would be steam, and pus at this stage." Trish commented gravely.

"Their blade wouldn't have cut through the armour this cleanly anyway," Pike said "This was the work of something else."

"A higher devil?" Lady asked.

"No doubt about that, but what are they doing up here?" Trish said "It's not like them to send one of them up to kill a stray human that wanders in."

Dante remained quiet. Trish could hear the sound of his teeth grinding in his mouth. Robyn's corpse shook in Dante's trembling arms. He dropped her on the ground, then stood up. People in front of him made way.

"It was Vergil."

There was a collective gasp, accompanied by a few "_What?_"s. 

"I'm sure of it. Vergil killed her. It has signs of his work all over."

The Devil Hunters remained quiet, waiting for further reaction from Dante. It didn't come, and Dante wordlessly walked on. 

They followed suit, walking more alert than before.

At last, they came to the centre of the maze in the pyramid. 

There was a large stone platform, about a foot high from the ground. It was square in shape, and looked big enough for about 20 to stand on it at a time. On the platform, there was a panel, on which was a large circle carving, with a demonic rune carved into the centre.

Behind the platform, there was a large hole in the ground. Out of which, the obelisk was slowly coming out of.

They all stood staring at it for a while.

"What now?" Anvil asked, to nobody in general.

"Simple," Dante answered quietly. His voice was husky, and those who knew him suspected he was under great stress at the moment. "We apply force to the panel, then the platform goes downwards."

"Oh yeah…" Enzo remarked, remembering "…I know these things."

"But, what about this giant thing here!" Lady inquired, inclining her head towards the obelisk "I don't know what it's for, but I have a feeling that we've to stop it going wherever it's going."

"The only way to do that, I'm guessing - and my guesses are normally right with this kind of thing," Dante said to her "Is to go down and stop it at it's source. Meaning, we're taking this platform downwards."

"We'll have to go down in groups," Trish announced "Everybody divide into groups of about 15 or so. I'll go with the first group. Dante, you come with me."

And with Trish's order, the Devil Hunters assembled themselves. Many of the Devil Hunters at the back of the crowd had not seen the platform yet, due to the sheer size of the crowd. It took quite a while for everybody to get organised.

The first crowd that got onto the platform consisted of Dante and Trish, and many others.

Dante tensed for a moment, then fired a single, powerful punch at the panel. The platform shook into life as surrounding lights activated on the circle.

With a lurch that nearly knocked the Hunters onto their feet, the platform plunged downwards, a little faster than comfort allowed.

The Hunters watched in awe as they descended down a stone shaft adorned by hieroglyphics on every wall.

After about a minute of constant sinking, there was a loud crash as the platform hit the ground. They were all in a large chamber, in the centre of which the platform was situated. The bottom of the elevator shaft was at the ceiling of this vast room, but the platform had continued descending until it hit the ground.

The chamber was fairly large, and on the walls of it there were many large archways which led into corridors, which branched out into different areas of the inner pyramid.

As soon as the last Hunter got off the platform, it trembled, then rose back up to surface level.

The party waited for the others to traverse downwards. This would take quite a while, taking into the account the amount of Devil Hunters there were.

* * *

Granson had his fingers to his eyes in frustration. Everything had changed completely since he had arrived in Egypt. First one bad thing happened, then everything else screwed up in turn. When it rains, he thought, it pours.

At the moment, he was in the middle of a heated discussion with the Guardian head druid. The Guardians themselves didn't hold the (half) man in high regard, and Granson never held many people in high regard anyway. So it was unsurprising that Granson detested the guy.

"Just tell me exactly why," he hissed at the man through his teeth "these knights of your are having a mutiny."

"It is you who's fault this is," the robed man sniffed, his nose held high "The Guardians of Vie De Marli have pledged their allegiance to the Sparda bloodline, and to they alone. We only fought alongside you thus far because of the two Sparda's position in your army. Now that you are against them, we are against you."

"Now see here," Granson told him "I have no problems with Dante and Vergil, personally, I like them, but it's not my decision to put them under arrest. Just tell your soldiers to lay down arms, and nobody gets hurt."

"Soldiers!" the druid repeated with contempt "We are no soldiers! Soldiers are honourless tools of governments, weapons of politicians! They use cowardly fire-arms to strike an enemy from afar with no chivalry whatsoever! No; we are warriors. We are honour bound knights sworn to protect our homes, and in this case we have sworn to protect humankind alongside the sons of Sparda, as we have long ago!"

Granson's thin patience was reaching it's hair-thin limits as the druid gave his monologue.

"Look, I couldn't give a shit about honour, it's people's lives I'm interested in. Just tell your goddamn '_warriors_'" - Granson gestured two fingers and bent them - "to lay down their goddamn arms."

The druid looked highly offended.

"I will most certainly not!" he told Granson angrily "If only you had a weapon on you, I would strike you!" 

Granson's mouth opened as he was about to say something, but he thought better of it. He just realised something. Chivalry. Honour. Two of the so-called virtues of the Guardians were becoming their weaknesses.

"Excuse me for a moment," Granson calmly said to the druid.

The druid looked slightly surprised that it was within Granson's capabilities to use manners.

"Of course," he responded with a small sniff.

Granson stepped outside the tent, then took out his personal radio. Tailor answered his call.

"Tailor,"

"Granson,"

"Tell the men to lay down their arms. Over."

"Come - come again? Over."

"I mean this quite literally, Tailor. Tell the soldiers - every single one of them, to physically throw their weapons to the ground. Make a show of it, so that the Guardians see it. Over."

"Have you lost it? Over"

"Just do it. Trust me. Over and Out."

* * *

Over by the pyramid, the Guardians were holding their ground admirably. They weren't suffering very many losses at all, unlike the poor human soldiers, who were getting decimated in their masses.

The soldiers had no cover, no trenches or anything to take cover behind while they fired. It was just a flat clearing by the pyramid. Perfect for the Guardians to charge them front on.

The soldiers were having a hard time taking down the Guardians. It took many magazines of bullets to kill one Guardian, and that was before you took the armour into account, which had some sort of power on it which seemed to repel bullet. The only way to do any damage whatsoever was to aim for the unprotected head, arms and legs. Things only got confusing when a Guardian would devil trigger. Bullets had less affect on them, and sometimes, the Guardian would change form completely. Another thing with the armour is that it allowed the Guardian to transform into whatever form their devil trigger was without getting into the way.

One notable case recorded by a Sergeant Major was what looked like a strange lion like creature prowl about, with the armour changed shape to fit onto the torso of the being. After a minute or two, a sphere of light bound into the creature, and a second later there stood a male Guardian with bushy blonde hair, the armour still fitting onto his human - shaped form.

_HellBane_ fighter copters that were on the scene were being taken down by winged Guardians, who would rip rotors of with their bare hands or talons. Others repeatedly crashed into the cockpit windshield until it shattered, then take out the pilot. This was horrifying experience to behold, especially if the copter in question was halfway through dropping in soldiers to the battlefield. If the copter was flying low enough, they cargo soldiers could chance a leap out and hope that they don't injure themselves. If it was too high, the helicopter would crash, killing all within.

These atrocities horrified all who saw them and were not themselves injured, even some Guardians who sympathised with the humans.

Then, it all changed when Tailor got the radio from Granson.

He roared at the soldiers near him to throw down their weapons. Some soldiers thought that they were surrendering. That did not stop them from throwing down their weapons, as they were all too glad to stop the bloodshed, and these creatures terrified some of them.

Soldiers who did not hear Tailor saw what others were doing and threw their weapons to the ground also.

The effect was instantaneous. Flashes of light illuminated the dusk sky as the Guardians who were transformed regained their human appearance. 

Guardians in the midst of a melee stayed their weapons and frowned at the soldiers who cowered before them, weapons missing from their hands.

Then, they too threw down their weaponry.

The battle came to an abrupt halt, and for a while there was peace.

The soldiers were awaiting further orders, and the Guardians remained silent, exchanging glances.

After a few minutes, something happened that shocked both sides.

The obelisk had risen to the point where it collided with the elevated top half of the pyramid.

The ground once again trembled violently, and the top of the pyramid divided into quarters, then split apart to make room for the obelisk to continue upwards.

As well as that, the quarters broke again. The tip of each quarter separated from the top, and rose up, high into the sky. It did this so that it looked like the pyramid was now divided into three pieces; the base, with the maze and the entrance downwards, the middle, which had opened outwards for the obelisk to continue, and the very tip of the pyramid, high above the others, separated into quarters in a similar fashion to the middle.

The tip of the pyramid, the Guardians knew, and the soldiers could guess, marked the destination of the ever-rising obelisk.

At the rate it was going, it wouldn't be long until it got there.

* * *

The Devil Hunters had split up, and kept to the parties they went down the shaft in. They took different paths, as the lift chamber was a connecting room to many corridors.

Anvil and Pike were the unofficial leaders of one group, as they were the best and the most experienced of the group.

They slowly walked down a corridor, weapons drawn. Torches illuminated the corridors, although they had no fuel to burn, and the flames that crackled from them did not produce heat.

All were quiet. Some were anxious, and were constantly checking their weapons, others were admiring the hieroglyphics on the walls. 

Some portrayed mummified corpses, others portrayed a lone figure, supposedly an intruder, who was stalked by a strange creature. The Hunters paid no notice to the warnings they blared.

Pike and Anvil were ahead of the others.

"You know, Anvil," Pike said with a smirk "It's not often we're alone together,"

"For good reason," Anvil responded gruffly, the slightest of smirks on her lips.

Pike disregarded this comment and persisted.

"You know how good you look right now," he complimented.

Anvil turned her attention to the walls of the corridor, deciding to ignore Pike. She feigned interest in a particularly bloody diagram of a person being slashed by a creature.

"Anvil, stop this…" Pike said to her.

"Stop what?"

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, looking at Pike with the best sincere face she could muster.

"I say it all the time, we'd be good together!"

Anvil snorted and pressed on. There it is. Pike was right, he did say it all the time, and she was starting to get tired of it, although she was flattered.

"Oh, come on!" Pike gave a final last stab, which he knew wouldn't persuade her. The other hunters could hear them, but they didn't comment. Any of those who had worked with both Pike and Anvil at the same time knew about this.

Pike slowed down to allow a fellow male Devil Hunter catch up with him.

"You know, I haven't got laid in months," he stated matter-of-factly. The hunter chuckled.

Anvil heard this. She stopped and turned around to face him and the others.

"Who do you think you're kidding?" she announced, just loud enough for the entire group to hear her "We share an apartment, and you haven't brought a woman home in over a year."

There was collective laughter from the group, and Pike lit a cigar to hide his embarrassment.

One hunter suddenly raised her pistol, alert.

"Did you hear that?" she asked the group, who had in turn armed themselves.

She was referring to a slight hiss of something. Something that had heard the noise they were making and came to look. Some of the other hunters had heard it too, but didn't know what to make of it.

There was a swish of something sharp.

Anvil instinctively dodged to the side as something behind her materialised and tried attacking her. Instead of killing her, it made a graze on her torso.

Since every other hunter was facing in the direction from whence it came, they fired at it before it could dematerialise.

The thing fell to the ground, full of lead.

They all stood over it's body.

It was a strange creature. It looked like a type of snake thing, only it's head looked like a shrunken human skull, with larger eyes than usual. Before it died, the eyes glowed a faint green.

It's body was long, like a snakes, but skeletal, and it had long arms, at the end of which were razor sharp claws.

When it was alive, it was in mid-air, so it was capable of flight, but there were no wings of any description on it.

Anvil let out a grunt of pain.

They all turned their attention to her.

"Are you alright?" Pike asked her worriedly.

"Just - just a scratch. I'll be fine." she assured him.

Pike was not put off.

"I saw the size of those claws. I don't think that it would only be a scratch if it got you."

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." she insisted, but she did not sound certain about it.

"Where did it get you?" a hunter asked her.

She took her hand off the area around her stomach. There was a growing patch of blood there.

"Alright, sit down, and take off your jumper," Pike told her "And - all of you, circle us, keep guard. There's bound to be more of the bastards."

"I'm not taking my top off, Pike," Anvil laughed.

He didn't smile, and she started to take it seriously.

She was wearing an unzipped army jacket over a white tank top, over which she had a belt going diagonally across her chest, which had magazines on it, as well as phials of holy water and some glowing jewels. She took off the jacket and belt, although she insisted she keep the tank top on, but pulled it up to allow Pike to inspect the wound.

Devil Hunters kept in a circle around the pair, keeping watch vigilantly.

"How is it?" she asked him.

"It's…it's not horrible. The cut's fairly deep, but I don't think it goes through anything." he said, frowning at the cut.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't like the look of your skin. I'm only noticing it now, it's different."

"I'm Latino, you jackass!" she spat.

"Not that!" he retorted, hurt. "That thing must have done something to you, I don't know what. It's not just around the wound, either."

Pike applied disinfectant to the wound, then cleaned it, then bandaged it. He gave her some water from his flask - after he convinced her it wasn't alcohol, then had another devil hunter look at her skin.

"Any idea what it could be?" he asked the hunter.

All devil hunters had at least a basic understanding of first aid - it was just practical. But, different hunters had experience with different types of injury, since they may have encountered different types of demon. The hunter that Pike was asking at the moment was renowned for travelling abroad a lot, and it was therefore assumed that he had dealt with many kinds of demons before.

"I'm not sure, I've only been in this area once…" the hunter stated, stroking his stubbly chin "And from what I know of curses, I'd say her skin's starting to rot."

Anvil looked appalled.

"You mean to say, that - that, _thing_ put a curse on my _skin_?" she asked him in a whine.

"I'd say it's just that your skin's just the first thing that gets affected. Other organs may suffer next," the hunter said grimly.

"Hang, on," Pike said "Could this be the-"

He was cut off as another creature appeared in mid-air near the group. It fell to the ground seconds after revealing itself.

"Could this be the Mummy's curse that everybody talks about?" Pike asked when the noise died down.

"Could be," the hunter said thoughtfully, looking back at Anvil curiously.

"Well, how do I get rid of it? Holy Water?" Anvil suggested.

"Couldn't hurt to try," Pike said, and with that, he reached into the pockets of his black leather trench coat and withdrew a small corked test-tube of holy water. He emptied it onto Anvil's chest. (Had this been under other circumstances, she would have slapped him for pouring it there.)

Nothing happened.

Anvil lied onto her back and put her hands over her face, muttering profanities in Spanish.

Pike turned to the other hunter.

"What else can we do? She can't stay like this forever, she'll die!"

The hunter shrugged.

"The curse should have worn off anyway when we killed the thing that cast it."

Pike gave an agitated sigh, and then looked down at Anvil.

"But, maybe, we didn't kill it," the hunter said simply.

"What?" Anvil barked as she sat up "I saw that thing die - in fact, see for yourself it's still there -" she pointed at the still form of the creature, then went silent when she realised something.

At this, some surrounding hunters who were listening in turned and stared anxiously at the thing. 

Lesser demons didn't hang around when they died. The other creature that they shot down hadn't decomposed, either.

Anvil tried to get up, but groaned with pain. Pike offered her his hand and helped her up.

"We move on," she ordered to them all "We haven't time to stall."

"What about the curse, love?" Pike asked her.

She elbowed him in the stomach, proving that she was still in fighting order.

"I figure that we'll come across more as we go along," she said as she walked on Maybe we've to kill them all before the curse goes off…and don't call me love."

* * *

It turned out that many of the corridors interlinked at one stage. Dante, Trish, Lady and Enzo's parties had came together when the corridors they walked through fused.

It seemed that this was so because an important chamber was nearby. In fact, they seemed to be in an opening chamber together, right in front of an immense pair of double doors.

According to Dante and Trish, there was a huge amount of the highest-ranking demons inside. And if Dante and Trish could sense them, then they could sense the Devil Hunters. They must have been waiting for them.

There were about 3 parties that were not present, Pike and Anvil's group including. Despite this, there were over 70 hunters there. Dante was not sure whether this would be enough, but there was no time to lose.

After ordering everybody to check themselves and their equipment, he stepped up to the double doors and belted them both open with a powerful kick. Gripping Alastor in one hand and Rebellion in the other, he stepped in, the Devil Hunters right behind him.

* * *

_Joe: Sorry to end the chapter there._

_I would have liked to go on, but the chapter was too big so far. And, well, if I put the next scene in, then I would have had to put all the rest in. And that would just have been ridiculously big._

_Well, what else can I say, except review and tell me what you think._

_Ciao._


	21. In the Obelisk Chamber p2

_Disclaimer: Don't own much that can be bragged about, so don't sue, Capcom._

_Joe: Huge thanks to anybody who reviewed, you people make the world a better place. _

_You'll notice that I changed the chapters names a bit, because I couldn't think of a name for this one, and, plus, the name I gave this one suits it better than it suited the one I changed. _

_That's all there is to say of importance, so, on with the chapter._

* * *

Tailor inspected the forces at his command on the dunes before him. Unlike earlier, when the forces were a small task-force sent to make a beach-head in the demon base, he now had a full-armed battalion, complete with heavy tanks, artillery, full links with HQ for back-up and air support, not to mention the countless extra general infantry at his command.

The Guardians, regrettably, had to be taken out of the picture, due to their insubordination. Tailor didn't know where they were now. But, then again, that didn't matter for the time being.

"Have you made a decision, General?" asked the M.P. beside him respectfully.

Tailor sighed irritably to himself. He didn't know why the military police were still here. They annoyed him. Their presence made him feel like they thought that he had done something wrong.

Not something one would want to feel in the heat of battle.

"When I do," Tailor answered in a measured tone "You'll be informed. For the time being, I'd appreciate it if you left me be for a while, I need to think."

"Of course, sir."

The M.P. saluted. Tailor saluted back, and the M.P. left.

Tailor then turned his attention to the pyramid. He had no desire to chase after Dante and his retinue, but that's what HQ expected him to do. Dante had to do what he had to do, and the chances were what he had to do was the right thing to do, the best course of action. But, Tailor was supposed to send his men in to storm whatever was in there, and arrest the twins.

Hell, he had a feeling that was the reason that the M.Ps were still here; to make sure that he did his duty. The top brass was aware of his relationship with the sons of Sparda, and the M.P.s were still here as a precaution to Tailor doing anything stupid like making orders to ensure the safety of the twins.

He didn't know what he should do. But, time was ticking. He could see the obelisk rising steadily as a reminder of this. Action had to be made.

He had to send the orders. Soldiers had to be sent in, for good or for worse. They would either deal with the problem themselves, or at least discover what was down there, so that further proper action could be taken.

He summoned Colonel Benson to him, who was nearby.

"Send the orders to the men. I want three squads of twenty sent down - three squads of the best. Ask the squad COs to hand pick their best for this. I want at least five heavy machine guns for every squad, and at least one medic per squad. See to it."

The Col. Benson acknowledged his orders, saluted, then left, leaving Tailor alone again. Tailor watched Benson's progress towards the troops. After a moment, an M.P. called Benson to him, and said something him, gesturing towards Tailor.

Tailor narrowed his eyes as Benson replied, and continued towards the troops. The M.P. looked towards Tailor, but didn't move.

They were happy with his decision, apparently. He was not to be court-marshalled just yet.

* * *

As Dante kicked the large double doors open, there was a short moment where the occupants of the large chamber within were still. The devil hunters took this moment to flood into the chamber en masse.

Then, the demons realised who was at the door and began to attack.

This was also the same moment that Dante realised the mistake he had just made as he took in the amount of immensely powerful devils.

"Oh, shit." he quietly cursed, then, casting thought and any regard for his own safety aside, charged on with Alastor and Rebellion at the nearest devil.

Many of the other devil hunters hung back and opened fire.

Nearby, Joel saw Dante and made to charge at him, but Pontius held him back.

"_Not now - you are not ready._" he ordered.

Joel gritted his teeth in irritation, then retorted hotly;

"_But, I have to defend the chamber with the rest of you!"_

"_That may have been the case when the soldiers were going to invade, but not these humans. They are strong. You are not ready. Stay near the back where you can avoid danger."_

Joel continued to grit his teeth, but bowed his head reverently, then turned and stormed towards the opposite side of the large chamber from the attackers.

Dante had no idea why nobody was dead yet. The Order seemed to have decided not to full-out repel the devil hunters. The bullets that the devil hunters were firing were either not doing any noticeable damage when they hit a higher devil, or if the devil was capable of preventing the bullets from hitting them they did so. Those who were proficient at melee combat, such as Trish or Dante, refrained from doing so, as they knew that the devils would not hesitate in swiftly killing them.

But, the Order did not fight back for some reason.

This puzzled most of the devil hunters, who nonetheless did not cease fire, just in case. However, although Dante kept firing and knew full well that it was doing no good, he did know one thing; the devils were waiting for something.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dante could see an extravagantly dressed demon with black hair and orange eyes stare at him interestedly. The devil's foot was tapping the floor rhythmically, as though he was bored, but his expression was blank.

Dante kept firing in the general direction of the main crowd of devils, but slowly walked towards the orange-eyed devil.

The devil noticed this and approached him, his face remaining indifferent.

"Son of Sparda," he called out.

Dante stopped firing, holstered Ebony and Ivory, but gripped Alastor and Rebellion from his back.

"And who are you?" he asked the devil bluntly.

"My name is Pontius" the devil continued eyeing Dante up and down "and you…I expected more, to be honest."

"Yeah, well," Dante retorted coldly "Every piece of filth who said that so far ended up dead."

Pontius laughed loudly at this, but his expression remained the same, which unnerved Dante.

"You are very like your father…it is such a pity…you should have chosen your allegiance more wisely."

"Vlad said something like that, yeah," Dante responded, letting his guard drop a little, but still tightly gripping his swords."

"I would say that he did…" Pontius agreed "…but, child, it is not too late…that is why I wish to speak with you…now, it would be wise if -"

"Don't bother," Dante interrupted harshly "I didn't come this far to give up."

Pontius gave a low chuckle.

"Then, child…what _did_ you come this far for?"

Dante spun and flourished his twin blades in a stylish motion, then brought them into a fighting stance. Alastor crackled threateningly.

"You really need an answer?" he responded.

Pontius did not laugh, but rose an arm into mid air. White flames erupted from his hand, which extended slowly into a strange shape. The flames instantly extinguished with a great explosion of white smoke. After the smoke settled, a strange weapon lay in Pontius' outstretched arm.

The body of it was like a whip with a blade at the end, but the handle had countless of such whips protruding from it. Not only that, many of the whips branched out into multiple smaller whips, all with blades at the end.

"Well…" Pontius stated "After all your travels…I would hate to disappoint you."

* * *

Crìnge and Vergil went silent for a short moment. They could hear the sounds of a battle raging nearby, and they could sense humans - and a half-devil with them.

"It seems…" Crìnge announced slowly after the pause "that your brother has arrived."

Vergil frowned, then answered;

"It will take a lot of persuasion to make Dante join us."

"I have no intention of forcing him," Crìnge said "It is entirely his decision. If he wishes to fight, then let him fight."

"I don't wish to fight him," Vergil remarked sullenly "I-"

"Need further training," Crìnge finished "And, do you also feel too emotionally attached to him to kill him?"

"Not that!" Vergil blurted "I could kill him if need be - I would."

"You would?" Crìnge said softly, reprovingly, frowning.

"I…" Vergil paused. He was evidently getting the wrong impression of Crìnge - of devils, for that matter.

Again, there was silence.

"That amulet…show me it," Crìnge broke the silence, gesturing towards Vergil's amulet.

Vergil took the amulet from around his neck, paused for a moment, as though unwilling to part with it, then slowly handed it to Crìnge.

Crìnge looked at it for a while, then said;

"Ah, yes…it has been…what is it now, a millennia? Ah, memories."

Crìnge hung it around his neck. He looked at Vergil, then announced as he turned his back on him.

"In any case, I do not wish you to fight anyway. But, I have matters that need seeing to. Stay here."

Crìnge made for the door.

"Your sword," Vergil called out, pointing at Crìnge's broadsword, which was still by the throne.

"I will leave it here," Crìnge replied as he opened the giant double doors with a wave of his hand "I have no need for it now."

He shut the doors behind him with a resounding **clang**, then there was silence.

Vergil fingered the area around his neck where the amulet was, which felt unusually bare. He sighed, knowing that there was a battle that he should be participating in, but he followed Crìnge's orders. Vergil sat himself on the throne, deep in thought about his conversation with Crìnge, about the supposed mind powers Vergil had within him...

* * *

Major Edward Blunt stared uneasily at the strange contraption before him.

He was in command of the 57th regiment of the 81st Infantry Division that were embarking on an expedition into the pyramid.

The regiment had made it into the centre of the maze, and had reached the lift, but they did not yet know what the lift was. Maj. Blunt had ordered the regiment's engineers to take a look at it. That was ten minutes ago now, and an engineer was giving his report now.

"We've agreed that it's a lift of some sort, but the question is, how to operate it," he said "The circle-shaped thing on it definitely has something to do with it, but were stuck as to how it works. The rim of the circle spins when you spin it, but that has no effect on the lift."

Major Blunt, a veteran of many battles with demons, walked up to the lift and inspected the circle with the strange markings on it. The engineers around him looked forlorn and confused, and one or two were literally scratching their heads.

Blunt placed his hand on the edge of the circle, and with a grunt pulled. It was firmly stuck.

He spun it, and watched it spin for a few seconds before it came to rest.

He made an interested sound, as a child with a new toy would, then stroked his clean-shaved chin thoughtfully.

"As you can see, sir, it doesn't look like we have everything we need here," the reporting engineer stated "Perhaps there's a key that we need or-"

Blunt, who had been completely ignoring the engineer, grunted and gave the circle a heavy kick.

Two of the twelve markings on the circle lit up, and the rim of the circle started slowly spinning.

The engineer went silent, and Blunt smiled vaguely at his work. He reached to his hip and unsheathed an elegant long knife with engravings along it, and started hacking at the circle. (Ever since the contract was signed, all soldiers were issued blades, and the higher officers, naturally enough, were given prettier, more formal blades). The blade made contact with the circle, but did not leave a scratch on it's pristinely smooth surface, but the remaining lights lit up.

The floor of the lift trembled, and Maj. Blunt and the engineers hurriedly jumped off as the left swiftly descended. With nobody on it, the lift shortly returned to the top. The nearby soldiers eyed it with renewed interest.

The engineer turned to Blunt.

"Sir?" he asked quietly

"Mhm?"

"How did you know how to work the lift?"

"I didn't. An intelligent guess, may I say so myself. With these demons, you see, it's all a matter of force."

Maj. Blunt then organised the 57th into it's subdivisions - A company, B company, C company, and so forth.

He ordered them to go down the lift in turn, and to hold the lift chamber below until given further orders, as well as ordering the radio man to report to HQ.

Several minutes later, the entire 57th regiment was inside the pyramid, and Maj. Blunt was inspecting the chamber along with the company lieutenants.

The companies were to each take one of the many passageways leading from the large lift chamber, and the one company that was left, K company, was to hold ground by the lift, where Major Blunt would be receiving radio calls from the lieutenants on their progress.

It was First lieutenant Jones of C company who first radioed, after coming into contact with a group of devil hunters. Maj. Blunt ordered him to co-operate and cover the devil hunters, as he knew that they would have a better idea of what was going on than the military currently did.

* * *

First lieutenant Jones ended the radio call, and handed it to Sgt. O' Hehir, the radioman. He then turned to Pike, who was watching him with his arms folded, a lit cigar in his mouth.

"The major says that we've to work with you.," Lt. Jones stated in a matter-of-fact way "So, I guess that we have to work alongside each other.

Jones offered Pike his hand. Pike merely looked at it until Jones put it down.

"I said - _NO_!" Anvil's voice was clearly heard, and it echoed a few times in the corridor.

The company medic was trying to clean up her wound as best as he could, but Anvil refused point blank to show him her wound, and she would not accept pain-killers.

The medic gave an irritated grunt, and faced upwards as if to pray for strength.

Anvil remained on the floor, legs and arms crossed, with a sulky expression.

"Well, when do you plan on moving forward?" Jones asked Pike, who shrugged.

Jones was getting irritated, Pike treating him the way he was in front of his men, and Jones decided to take control if Pike did not.

"Fine then. If you are not going to do anything, then I will," Jones announced boldly "Now, first of all we need to-"

He was cut off as one of the Pyramid Guardians became visible in mid air right beside the two. Pike swiftly took his Magnum revolver from his coat and fired at the head of the creature as it raised it's sharp claws.

The creature was knocked from the air, and the orange glow that was once in the sockets of the skull's eye faded away. It fell to the floor with a **crash**.

Jones was speechless, his jaw open and quivering. Pike spat out his cigar and crushed the butt under his boot.

"Yeah, that'll happen every now and then. You watch yourself," Pike stated to Jones "…Jakeson, is it?"

"Juh -Jones," Lt. Jones corrected.

"Whatever," Pike responded "Anyway, I know it's your duty to order your men about, but the devil hunters are going to do what we want. If you're staying with us, be my guest, but don't try and order us about."

Jones nodded.

Pike turned to look at the numbers the group now had. After a moment's thought, he said;

"But, your are right on one thing, James, we _do_ need to get moving."

He turned to the nearest devil hunter.

"Are we ready?"

The devil hunter nodded.

"Good. Let's get going."

"What about me?" Anvil asked shrilly, her temper steadily getting worse.

Pike turned to look at her, and frowned.

"Can you walk?" he asked her softly.

"Yeah," she answered, then added hesitantly "I just don't know if I will be able much longer."

She motioned for Pike to come closer, then clasped onto his arm to pull herself up. She took a step forward, stumbled, but Pike caught her.

"You're sure you can by yourself?" he asked her.

She pushed him roughly off.

"Positive. Let's go," she snapped, looking away from Pike.

Pike sighed, then turned to Lt. Jones.

"Get your men together. Looks like were moving on, Johnson."

"It's Jones!" Lt. Jones called out irritably to Pike's back.

"Whatever."

Jones ordered his men to move on and follow the devil hunters.

A few minutes after the last soldier was gone, something strange happened. The corpses of the skeletal creatures shuddered. The glow in their eye sockets returned, and they rose into the air again. They dematerialised out of physical existence and visibility, then floated towards the humans, moving through walls and everything else to locate and stalk their prey.

* * *

Back in the lift chamber, Maj. Blunt got a radio from the first lieutenant of A company, who reported that companies A, B, D, E, F, G, H, I, and J had all reunited together; their passageways interlinked. The lieutenant went on the say that there was a giant double door close by, and gunfire could be heard behind it.

Maj. Blunt ordered that they open the doors up and open fire on anything that wasn't human; that was the mission that they were given in the first place.

Shortly after, Major Blunt received another call informing him on the participants of the battle and the overall situation. Blunt ordered that they open fire on the devils in the room, but not the devil hunters. When informed about one of the sons of Sparda engaged in close combat with a devil, Blunt ordered that they refrain from firing at him. As Blunt said; "I don't trust him either, but if he's fighting one of the higher-ups, let him. We can arrest him later when he's done."

Upon hanging up, Maj. Blunt radioed back to battalion HQ to inform them on the situation. Col. Benson received the call, and then informed Brigadier General Shea, who informed General Tailor.

Gen. Tailor, thinking quickly, sent the orders for 30th Infantry regiment to reinforce the 57th.

* * *

"Fire at will!" Lt. Jones barked at his men, as a small group of the Guardian creatures materialised right beside the company.

The creatures were shot down, but not before they had slashed at a few soldiers.

Jones walked up to the corpses and inspected them. Pike joined him.

"Some of these were ones we already shot down," Pike said, more to himself than to anyone else.

Jones eyed him curiously.

"How do you know?"

"Look." Pike pointed to one, which had a large fracture in it's skull, between the eyes, joining the two sockets into one large hole. "That's the one I shot down earlier."

"So it is…" Jones remarked softly.

The creatures had inflicted cursed wounds on five soldiers, and killed two others; their sharp claws had penetrated the ribcage and heart of one soldier, the other had half of his throat missing.

The company medic was doing his best to deal with the cursed gashes of the wounded, but could do nothing useful.

"What's the goddamn hold-up?!" Anvil screamed angrily from the back of the group "The sooner we move on, the sooner we can find a way to get rid of these bastards!"

Sure enough, they moved on shortly after Anvil's outburst.

It wasn't long before they came across a large double-door, similar to the one to the obelisk chamber.

They opened it, and entered. They encountered a strange chamber.

It was spherical in shape, with a statue in the centre, with a message at it's base, although it was written in a strange language, presumably Lìstook. The statue was of a devil of some sort; humanoid, but larger, and in elegant armour, with sculpted gargoyle heads as shoulder guards. It's face was expressionless, the mouth was closed, the nose was plain, and the eyes had no pupils; they were just blank. The head, too, was horned, but these horns were not like rams, but came outwards, and were each about the length of a butter knife. The figure had a cape, which came down to it's feet. The figure had one arm held up, a large sword in it's hand, as if to salute anybody who entered the chamber.

Along the walls were coffins, standing upright. Between the coffins were the creatures, but they were not yet active; they were help up against the wall with nothing visible supporting them, and their eyes had no light in them.

Directly opposite the double doors was the inanimate body of what looked like the leader of the Pyramid Guardians. It was absolutely massive in size, and it stretched from the wall opposite the double doors, along the edges of the spherical room, to the ceiling directly above the statue, where it's head was.

It's skull resembled nothing like a human's like the other creatures did. It looked more like a dragon's, or a dinosaur's, but it was longer, and had three pairs of eyes along the skull. It was horned; rams horns.

It had multiple arms along it's body; three pairs, like it's eyes, and each had long, razor sharp claws; a larger version of the basic guardian's. It had one other outstanding feature; it seemed to have a ribcage of sorts, with a large tablet of stone within it, although nothing was holding the stone up. There were hieroglyphics on the tablet of stone.

After inspecting the chamber, the group entered and looked around.

Jones looked at the message at the base of the statue.

"What does it mean?" he asked Pike. Pike shrugged, and lit a cigar.

Nearby, a devil hunter opened one of the coffin doors curiously, and found a mummy inside. The hunter stared at it with awe, his jaw dropped.

Soldiers and hunters nearby had similar reactions, and they approached the coffin to get a closer look.

It was Anvil who first noticed the guardians around the room come to life; their eyes glowed orange, then they swiftly zoomed towards the intruders.

There were screams as everybody opened fire.

Lt. Jones barked orders for regular assault rifle-armed soldiers to fire at will, and told the machine gunners to assemble their heavy weapons at certain points in the room, then open fire on the attackers.

The soldiers knew what to expect this time, and fared better than the last time. Even when the Guardians that were shot down previously in the corridor entered the room from the open double doors flooded in, the humans were already prepared, and the soldiers with the stationary belt-fed machine guns mowed them down with ease.

Casualties were minimal, with only several soldiers and devil hunters wounded and nobody killed. The medic, again, could do nothing.

When the last guardian hit the ground, the eyes of the statue in the centre of the chamber glowed orange. A sphere of orange light exploded from it, and the light expanded until it engulfed the room.

Every guardian that was on the ground returned to life. Even those that had pieces of their body blown off did so; the limbs, as if they had a will of their own, returned to the body of the creature it came from.

"You're kidding me!" Pike roared as opened fire once again.

There was a delay before the shocked soldiers and hunters started shooting, which cost many their lives.

Once again, the guardians were shot down, but it wasn't long before the statue's eyes lit up and it revived the guardians again.

"We can't keep doing this!" Anvil shrieked at Pike, as though it were some fault of his that the creatures kept returning to life.

"_I KNOW_!" Pike roared in retaliation. His cigar had long been spat from his mouth. He then got an idea.

"Jared!" he roared to Jones.

"JONES!"

"Whatever. Does any of your men have -" Pike paused to duck as a guardian slashed at where his head was a second before, then he blasted it away "- have any explosives of some sort?"

"Yeah, we have five missile launchers."

"Good. Tell your men to aim them at the statue."

"Of course…MEN! I WANT ALL _M11-PURGE _FIRE DIRECTED AT THE STATUE! NOW!"

As per orders, the soldiers with the missile launchers aimed at the statue.

Each round took a sizable chunk off the statue, which was made of a strangely durable rock, and it took six rounds to completely destroy it.

Any guardian that was active fell immediately to the floor, dead.

The soldiers and devil hunters were all hugely relieved, many letting out sighs, others just nursing their wounds.

Many were dead; their bodies littered the chamber, all of them soaked red in pools of blood, large gashes were evident on their pale bodies.

"That looks like it," Pike announced to Jones "That's these bastards dealt with."

"Pike!" Anvil called out weakly. She didn't sound angry anymore, and her voice became frail, which hurt Pike more than her angry yelling did. Not only that, but she was becoming increasingly pale; the curse had not yet worn off.

That was not why she called Pike.

Anvil was pointing towards the form of the great creature that was help up against the ceiling; the great tablet of stone within it's ribcage rotating slowly, and bands of glowing orange light revolved around it from every angle.

Then, all of the creatures eyes instantaneously ignited into orange flames, and it began to move.

It opened it's hollow jaw and let out a roar that chilled the blood of everybody below, then flew from it's original position, moving sleekly through the air like it was swimming through water.

It turned to face the stunned humans below.

* * *

Dante was gasping for breath. There were cuts all along his coat and skin where Pontius' weapon had slashed him. He had been fighting for a while, and although he landed blows against Pontius, and Pontius often made noises of pain and irritation, Dante did not leave any mark on the devil or his clothing.

Not only that, but Pontius' expressionless face was become increasingly irritating to Dante.

The military had arrived in the chamber a while ago, but their presence made no difference; they fired at the devils, the bullets made no damage, and the soldiers stopped firing to save ammunition. They had machine guns set up at the entrance, and at several points around what they made the frontline; the point at which the devil hunters and soldiers were firing from. Ever since they arrived, a group of soldiers travelled to and from the outside, returning with sandbags which they placed around the machine guns and at the designated frontline.

Although the Order were not retaliating, one devil delighted in letting the humans set up a blockade of sandbags, then strolling up to it and knocking it down, then retreating to let them set another blockade up. Bullets had no effect on him; it seemed that there was an invisible wall surrounding him, as bullets merely stopped at a set radius around him, but made noises to the effect that they were hitting stone.

Another burden on his mind was the obelisk at the centre of the room, which was slowly but steadily rising, always rising. He had a feeling that it was nearly at it's destination, and he had to hurry up with stopping it.

There was also was looked like a young man - in his late teens, it seemed to Dante - constantly staring at him, which unnerved him no end. He seemed annoyed at something, but Dante didn't know what.

Pontius swung his weapon horizontally. Dante threw himself to the ground as fast as he could - which required him to devil trigger in the process - and the weapon soared over his head. Before Pontius could strike again, Dante swung his swords up at Pontius' outstretched arm as hard as he could.

This was the area Dante had struck at most often, seeing as Pontius' weapon required Pontius to swing his weapon around, making his arm an easy target, providing Dante dodged the swing of the whip.

Because of this, when Dante swung his swords upwards at Pontius' arm, there was less resistance to the swing than there usually was, and Dante lost his balance afterwards and fell, seeing as he swung harder than was necessary.

Pontius' forearm and weapon fell to the ground with a **thump**, Dante having sliced cleanly through Pontius' arm.

Pontius screamed in anguish and fury, blood gushing freely out of the stump, his face still remaining blank, even at the loss of a limb.

Dante picked himself up from the floor, still in demon form. His combined use of Alastor and Rebellion was having a curious effect on his demon form; his body resembled an entire ensemble of armour, like it did when he used Alastor, but, rather than having blue light coming from the gaps in the armour, there glowed a red light. His wings were folded at his back, as usual. His two swords changed form when he triggered, to enhance their performance together; Alastor constantly crackled with intensified electricity, and Rebellion glowed red. The two also seemed to fit into each other at the end in his triggered form, becoming one double-ended blade.

Dante gave a roar before leaping at Pontius and slashing at his unprotected chest.

Pontius was knocked back, off his feet by the force of the attack, and landed on his back several feet away.

Joel could take it no more. He charged at Dante, his knuckles white from gripping his blade so hard.

He stabbed at Dante, who did not see Joel, his attention on Pontius, who was getting to his feet.

The blade went into Dante's side, and Joel felt triumphant, but almost a few seconds after withdrawing the blade the wound vanished, as it did not make a large enough wound for Dante to concern himself, and Dante was in demon form anyway.

Dante returned to human form and turned angrily to face Joel, who was already swinging his blade at Dante again. Dante parried, and while the blades were locked, pushed hard.

Joel was knocked off his feet, like his Master, but took more damage from the attack than Pontius did.

"_I told you, you are not ready!"_ Pontius announced to Joel impatiently. Pontius clicked, and his weapon soared into his left hand. Blood continued to pour from his right arm, but Pontius ignored it.

"_Foolish boy…_" he muttered to himself as he swung his weapon at Dante, this time landing a direct hit on Dante, who was tiring, and doing considerable damage.

This time it was Dante who was knocked to the ground. Pontius raised his weapon high above his head, and was about to slam it down when a calm voice stopped him.

"Now, now, Pontius, that is not a fitting way to deal with Sparda's son."

It was Crìnge, who had seemingly just arrived on scene. Pontius looked at him, then brought the weapon to his side.

"The boy…he took my arm," he stated, raising the remainder of his right arm for emphasis.

"Did he now?" Crìnge replied amusedly "It seems you underestimated him. How foolish of you, Pontius, especially after Vlad making the same mistake already."

"Yes…I suppose you're right…" Pontius remarked, calm once again, as Dante slowly got to his feet, breathing raggedly.

"It is a pity about your arm," Crìnge said "Had it not been ten or so minutes later, this never would have happened."

"Indeed, I hate being in human form…" Pontius agreed, then turning to look at the obelisk in the centre of the room "…actually…it would be considerably less than ten minutes…"

Dante leaned on Rebellion, grimacing. He hates when people talk more than he does, yet this time he couldn't do anything about it.

Crìnge looked at him, somehow knowing how he felt.

"Patience, boy. A true warrior has patience. Not that you would care, nevertheless…"

"Nah," Dante responded, having caught his breath and decided to say something "That's what Vergil's into. Talk to him about that pompous crap."

"Yes, that were the ideals your brother _was_ into…" Crìnge answered, subtly putting emphasis on 'was'.

Dante frowned at this.

"What do you mean, he _was_ into that? Last time I checked, he was as stiff an ass as ever."

Crìnge laughed at this.

"_Stiff_? Well, now more so than ever."

Dante narrowed his eyes.

"What are you getting at?"

"Well, it pains me to say this," Crìnge said "But, your brother is dead. He was foolish enough to challenge me. I did not wish to do it, but one must fight back when assaulted."

Dante was silent for a while, his head hung.

"No." he stated eventually "No. He can't be. You lie."

Crìnge acted offended.

"I do not lie. I am, as you said, '_a stiff ass_'," he spat "Here. If my words are not proof enough."

He reached for his neck, and took off the amulet that had previously been hidden under the black robe. He threw it at Dante.

Dante caught it in one hand and stared at it wordlessly. He couldn't believe it. It couldn't possibly be, but he knew it somehow did. Vergil would not have given it up if he was alive, Dante was sure. This was definite proof.

He had lost his brother.

* * *

Lucia's head throbbed with pain. It prevented clear thought, it made all light burn her eyes, and, somewhere nearby, the constant sound of an engine intensified the pain in her head.

She had no idea where she was, or for how long she had been there. She could hear ragged breaths from others nearby. She could sense that they were half-demons, too.

She weakly tried to raise her arm, but she felt resistance. She was tied down.

The last thing she remembered was uneasily standing guard outside the pyramid. It was her duty to prevent the humans from stopping Dante, who had gone in with the Devil Hunters. There was a fight, then the humans laid down arms. The Guardians let them be.

Then, after a long wait, more humans with different uniforms arrived. The new arrivals had strange weapons, but they did not display any desire to enter the pyramid. So the Guardians remained where they were and kept guard, albeit more cautiously.

Then, from where they were, the new humans fired their weapons over quite a long range.

Lucia had felt impact on her unprotected neck, then all went black.

The noise of the engine stopped, at long last.

There were sounds of a door being opened, then of footsteps.

Multiple footsteps. More people were approaching. There was conversation for a while, but to Lucia it was all incoherent, the voices were muffled; there was a wall or something dividing them. Her head felt like it was splitting open, and everything was a blurry mystery.

Further footsteps, this time moving slowly towards her direction.

Again, a door opened, but this time it was close, and this time accompanied with a flare of blinding light.

There was a _chink_ as Lucia tried to bring her hand to her eyes. Not only did the noise of the metal hurt her head, nut she let out an exasperated groan, and all she could do from stopping the light cutting into her eyes was to keep them firmly closed.

She could sense the newcomers. Humans, four humans.

She opened her eyes again out of curiosity, as the figures of the humans were now blocking the flare from her face.

They were all soldiers, though one of them was dressed in a more impressive uniform than the ones. He was obviously the highest ranking of the lot.

He looked at her for a moment with a thoughtful glance, then he turned to the soldier beside him.

"I thought you said that they would be knocked out for the next few hours," he remarked in an accusatory tone.

"That's what I was told, anyways, sir. I'm just the one who drove 'em here from the airfield," replied the soldier beside him bluntly, who reached into a holster at his him and withdrew a semi-automatic pistol, and pointed it at Lucia, then asked, almost hopefully; "Want me to take 'er out?"

"No, she doesn't look like she's going anywhere," the commanding officer answered, still analysing Lucia's still form "From what I've heard of these…_things_, your handgun wouldn't do much good anyway. These _are _the 'half-devils', aren't they?"

"S'pose so," the driver said unhelpfully.

"Well, they'd want to be," announced another soldier informatively in a southern drawl "The sedatives they were shot with are usually for bull elephants - triple dose, too."

"Disgusting beasts" spat the last of the men.

The commanding officer turned to him, eyebrow raised.

"Care to add, lieutenant?"

"With all due respect, colonel, you haven't dealt with demons before - or…_these_ confused scum," the lieutenant explained bitterly "I was there in Egypt, and if I had my way…well, we wouldn't be locking them up, we'd be lining them up against a wall and then fire until they stopped moving."

The commander frowned and turned back to look at Lucia, this time with a worried glance.

"Are they that bad? They were originally on our side. I heard others say that they were just like other people."

"I heard some folks say they were more decent," the southern man added.

The lieutenant sniffed.

"I saw some of these rip the arms of good men off with their bare arms - what sort of decent person does _that_?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Lucia felt her strength return slowly, and her head started to become more alert.

With considerable effort, she devil triggered, and she felt strength course through her body.

The soldiers jumped, and were still for a while with shock, but then the driver raised his gun and fired at Lucia with a vindictive air about him.

By then, Lucia had tore herself from the metal chains. It turned out that she was in a military transport jeep with the back door open, where the soldiers were standing. The blinding light was coming from a guard tower nearby, which had it's spotlight focused on the many jeeps that had arrived in the base.

She ignored the bullets that were hitting her, then leaped out of the jeep. The soldiers dived out of her way, but the driver seemed to be the only one with a firearm.

She leaped into the air, then extended her angel-like wings, then flew off as fast as she could. She could hear the loud curses of the soldiers below. Lucia could now see that they were near a large building complex - but, Lucia could not guess it's purpose or what it was.

She did not know where she was going, either. She was in the middle of a desert still, but she had a feeling that it wasn't in Egypt. The driver had mentioned an airfield - that meant that she was probably not in Africa anymore. It also meant that she had been unconscious for far longer than she originally felt, as the sky was pitch black now.

But, Lucia knew for sure one thing: the humans had taken the Guardians captive.

However, she didn't know what they planned to do with them, or what Lucia was going to do now. She had to find a way to help her comrades, but again, Lucia did not know how.

* * *

Granson sat with Tailor in the HQ tent, beside the radio. They were the only ones in the tent, which gave them free reign to debate what was on their minds.

"Those hunters and Dante found the sons of bitches?" Granson asked Tailor.

"That's what the report said, anyway," Tailor confirmed "The 57th regiment of the 81st Infantry division joined them. Dante was fighting one of them in close combat."

"No shit…what did you do?"

"I sent in the 30th regiment to reinforce them. We need as much firepower in there as possible."

"Two whole regiments? It must be fairly roomy in the pyramid. Two whole _regiments_…I mean, they'd be squeezing in."

"I took into account how many casualties there would be inside with the devils."

Granson gave a grim sigh.

"I suppose you're right…" he then thought for a moment, then added "With more men, though, it's less likely that the wins will escape undetected."

Tailor gave a small laugh.

"Who said anything about them leaving undetected? That was never a possibility. Vergil, maybe, but Dante…it was always a matter of them leaving and the soldiers being smart enough not to try and stop them."

Granson chuckled along with Tailor.

Suddenly, the ground started trembling violently. Granson fell off his chair.

"What the hell is that?!" he bellowed indignantly as he scrambled to his feet and placed his cap back on his head.

The two ran out of the tent, and looked towards the pyramids.

Although it was now dark out, the red electricity flowing from the other pyramids to the main one illuminated it and let the two see what was happening.

The obelisk had reached the uppermost tip of the levitating part of the pyramid. The tip, like the middle part had, broke into quarters and separated outwards. With a massive rumbling sound, the obelisk stopped moving.

The red electricity came to an abrupt halt, and all went dark save for what light the half-moon illuminated.

Then, the entire obelisk itself burst into red light, once again giving the generals a clear view of what was happening. From the tip of the obelisk, a ball of red electricity formed and expanded, until, eventually, a constant beam of pure red energy, like all of the red electricity compressed into a single beam, fired straight up into the sky as if from a power hose.

Instead of going continuously upwards, the beam stopped at a certain point in the atmosphere, as if it hit something.

From where the beam stopped, a hole, barely noticeable at start, but gradually expanded to become obvious appeared, and continued to expand, slowly outwards.

From the other side of the hole, what looked like crimson clouds could be seen, whirling into itself, as if it were a whirlpool, the sky sucking itself in.

What the sky of the underworld looked like.

The patch of the underworld spread outwards as the red beam of energy continued to fire upwards.

It was only gradually expanding, but, if it was not stopped, it would most certainly cover the entire earth, making a complete transition from the realm of the human to that of the demon, such has not been for over two thousand years.

* * *

_Joe: Cliff hanger! OHHHHHHHH! _

_You know, I could threaten to stop right now. Unless you give me…_

_**1 billion reviews…**__(puts little finger to mouth). _

_Nah, I won't do that. Cos, that's Gromit's idea. Can't steal that._

_No, no, I suppose I'll just ask (beg) for a more realistic amount of reviews._

_So, that's it for this chapter._

_Ciao._


	22. Conflict of Conscience

_Disclaimer: If it's here and it's worth something then I don't own it._

_Joe: Hah, bet you didn't expect me to update so soon (by my usual standards). _

_Okay, okay, first things first; there's something that's bugging the crap outta me, mistakes in the last chapter that need attention. None of you seemed to notice, so no harm done I suppose, so this is more for my sake than any of yours, maybe you'll learn something. I know a lot (if I do say so myself) about the military in WWII, and I used a lot of it in the last chapter, but I made a few mistakes, some just regular mistakes, some because the system has changed._

_To start off; I said that Major Blunt was in the 81__st__ Infantry Division, that's all well and good. For the hell of it I'll mention that a Major (or Lieutenant Colonel) heads a battalion. That's the first thing; I forgot about the existence of battalions. Blunt reported by radio to Colonel Benson, who was the head of the 57__th__ Regiment, being the Colonel. Benson reported to Brigadier General Shea, who headed the 81__st__ division._

_But, in the modern army there are no regiments. There were in WWII, but not in the modern army. My mistake. Well, the Marines still have regiments, but I didn't say that they were in Egypt, and I didn't say that Blunt and Jones and all them were Marines._

_They've also apparently added something called a 'brigade' into the army, but I haven't got a clue what it is, or what leads it._

_Another thing, a Captain heads a company, not a first lieutenant, another mistake. Lt. Jones should have been Cap. Jones._

_I think they've cut down on the number of companies in a battalion, as well. There shouldn't have been companies F, G, H, I and so forth. A, B, C, and D, are fine, but I don't know about E. The companies are also called different things than to what they were in WWII. A company is Alpha, B company is Bravo, C company is Charlie, and D company is Delta._

_So, if anybody else here already knew what I just said, could you all assume that the organisational system is the same as in World War II? Cheers. Because I don't know that much about the modern system, and I like to make it seem like I know what I'm talking about in this fic._

_That was probably the most boring thing you've ever read, so sorry. But I had to fix those problems, they were driving me nuts._

_So, to stop you from collapsing with boredom, I'm starting; (then again, you'll probably still be bored…)_

* * *

Dante just stared at Vergil's amulet in his hand. To him it was as if he was staring at Vergil's bloodied corpse. He could sense that the devils around him had become terrifyingly stronger suddenly, so he assumed that the obelisk had reached the top and that he had failed his mission.

He felt that he had failed already, seeing as Vergil was dead. He had not moved or looked away since Crìnge flung the amulet at him.

There had been flashes of light in the room, and he could hear that the devil hunters and military had resumed fire amid shouts. It seems that the Order were no longer waiting for something, and were retaliating.

"I understand your loss," Crìnge said sagely to Dante through the screams, shouts and gunfire.

Dante was about to retort hotly when he realised something was wrong. Crìnge's voice had changed - it was deeper, and it had a demonic edge to it.

Dante jumped to his feet as he stowed the amulet in his pocket - he didn't put it with his own amulet, as he couldn't out them together to risk opening up the demonic world, and he was temporarily stunned with what he saw.

Crìnge's true form showed indefinitely his bloodline. He was black scaled, he had ram's horns, with a diamond-shaped third eye.

He looked almost exactly like Sparda, but without the wings. His body emitted dark blue light that illuminated nothing, in the same way Sparda had emitted scarlet light.

"And, yes, I actually _do_ understand your loss," Crìnge stated with a smile, exposing fangs. Dante frowned as he was going to rebuke Crìnge for actually killing Vergil himself, and plus that he could not possibly know what Dante was going through.

"Do not forget that I, like you, lost a brother."

Dante kept his mouth shut, not knowing how to reply.

"Sparda died in a similar way, also…" Pontius remarked.

Dante turned to him.

If Dante had been in the guardian's chamber, he would have noted that the statue that was at the centre (which was now blown up) was a statue of Pontius.

His face was like a mask, but the mouth moved when he talked. Like Vergil had been as Nelo Angelo, there was light flowing through the gaps in his armour. The light went blood-red when it came to his right arm, where the forearm was still missing. There was no blood flowing from it.

To be honest, Dante felt himself slightly more powerful, the link between the two worlds being stronger meant that it took far less energy to utilise his demon side.

"What's it to you?" Dante spat "Don't pretend that _you've_ ever had a family. There's no way scum like you ever had a mother."

"I would not mock me, human…" Pontius replied, irritatingly calmly "…you are weakened enough as it is……as the case is, mothers are a sensitive issue…"

Dante snorted, no longer caring in any way for his safety.

"What, did Daddy fall in love with a statue?" he taunted.

For a second, the light circulating through Pontius' armour intensified, but he seemingly calmed himself.

"Disregard him, Pontius," Crìnge told him "If a cornered beast could speak, it would speak such words."

"Oh, I'm not cornered. I'm far from cornered," Dante told him with a small laugh and gripped his two swords again "Just let me show you."

With an almost tired sigh, Crìnge pointed at Dante, his hand flaming with blue fire. He then roughly brought his arm towards the wall.

Dante was sent flying into the chamber wall just as he was about to make a stylish flourish with his swords, and collided hard enough for him to imbed into the stonework.

With a groan, he tried to pull himself out, at first unsuccessfully, but with a more enforced tug he freed himself. He brushed the sand off from his coat.

"That all you got?" he asked boldly, but his being out of breath slightly ruined the effect.

Crìnge gestured again, this time upwards.

"Shit." Dante knew where he was going before he felt himself roughly pulled upwards as if by an invisible hand, high up the vast chamber.

As he rose and looked around, he observed the countless bodies of soldiers, and of several devil hunters. A seemingly everlasting supply of soldiers continuously stormed into the chamber.

Then, gravity did it's work, and Dante felt his ascent slow, then come to a standstill, then he plummeted.

He laughed, genuinely thrilled as the ground approached worryingly swiftly. He could see Crìnge's surprised expression (Pontius looked indifferent, of course).

Dante twirled and somersaulted in mid air, then, with a large crash, landed on his feet.

A large amount of dust erupted from the ground where he landed, veiling him for a while.

The dust subsided, and Dante could be seen with his arms crossed, his foot tapping the ground in a bored fashion.

"If you two can't come up with something better, you'll excuse me if I want to get straight to business," he remarked with a smirk.

Quick as a flash, Dante was at Crìnge with his arms held out to his side, Alastor in one and Rebellion in the other.

If he had been attacking a human, the human would have been carved apart before he even realised that Dante had moved.

But, Crìnge was of course more alert, and Dante found himself frozen to the spot inches away from Crìnge, his swords still held at his sides.

"Enough of this, my child," Crìnge told him "We both know that you are not yet ready to fight one such as me. Perhaps you will be some other day."

If it were possible, Dante would have gritted his teeth, but his entire body was frozen. He knew that Crìnge was right. There was no way Dante could kill him - this was Sparda's brother, after all.

"Why do you not just stop struggling?," Pontius suggested "…You have nothing to accomplish…save getting yourself slain."

"Do not bother trying to persuade him, Pontius," Crìnge informed his friend "He will not give up. We will simply have to -"

He clicked his fingers at Dante, pushing him into the nearest wall, but keeping him frozen there.

" - make him."

Dante was frozen in midair, against the wall, unable to do anything.

He could see the soldiers persistently flood into the chamber, only to be slaughtered in their masses. The bodies were quite literally piling up. In all fairness to them, Dante thought, they had seemingly dealt severe damage to a devil, who had retreated to the opposite side of the large chamber, out of the seemingly endless rain of fire.

"How long until we have our reinforcements?" Pontius asked Crìnge "…the portal has been open for some time now."

"The worlds are currently close enough for us to make more soldiers, but that would take too long under present circumstances," Crìnge answered thoughtfully "And if we summoned lesser demons from the Underworld, they would be of no use - they would be shot down in seconds. Either we destroy all of the humans here ourselves…or we leave. Our purpose here has been fulfilled. Once we are rid of these humans, we will have time to rebuild our army."

At this stage, Joel had recovered and was at his Master's side, but was in a frightened silence with the true forms of the Order all around. Pontius turned to Joel and went silent for a moment, as if in thought, then said;

"_What do you think? I care not what we do. Crìnge, let this be the boy's choice."_

"_Very well_," Crìnge responded, the slightest of smiles on his face.

Joel looked to an inanimate Dante, then to the soldiers and remaining devil hunters, then to Pontius.

"_I wish to fight. I have not had a proper battle yet."_

Dante did not know what the young man said, but he could tell by his expression that something was about to happen. Given the current situation he guessed that the devils were now full-out retaliating against the humans.

* * *

Vergil's conscience was plaguing him. He sat on the throne in the main chamber, Force Edge and Yamato on both armrests. Crìnge's broadsword was leaning against the throne, and the broken pieces of Betsy still lay on the ground nearby.

Vergil felt strange without his amulet around his neck, but that was only one of the things that was troubling him.

His accursed conscience was at him. He had trained himself to lose it, and ignore it when it eventually did spring back up from time to time, but he had never been as troubled by it as he was now. All these things that were bothering him…

Robyn. That damned, foolish, naïve, weak, obstinate whore of a woman was one of Vergil's chief concerns now that he was left alone with his thoughts. - something that he had recently found to be an increasingly dangerous thing, due to his nightmares.

Vergil was a proud warrior, indiscriminately killing those who got in his way, and he had always been that way.

But this, this woman…

He did not know why she bothered him so. She was armed when she died, so Vergil could justify killing her. She had somehow killed the captain-demon who was escorting Vergil to Crìnge, and was therefore getting in the way of Vergil's goals. Yet the thought of her death brought nausea to Vergil's stomach.

After all, her only crime had been trying to help Vergil, get close to him…

Vergil shook his head, as if hoping that he could shake off his doubts.

Maybe, he thought grimly, he just could not kill as he used to. Weakness. He had gotten weak.

Then again, is this _weakness_? The morals biting away at Vergil's mind are the morals Dante lives by. And _he_ is undoubtedly strong, Vergil could not deny that.

They were not what made Dante strong though, Vergil knew. Dante's strength lay in his powers, not his beliefs. Vergil only ever lost to Dante because Vergil was not using his powers the way he was able to, he now knew.

But, before, Vergil had felt that his morals, his cold-heartedness and calmness, the way of the warrior, gave him strength. It obviously didn't.

There was no need to kill that woman. She was not strictly getting in his way. Vergil could have pressed on with the other captain-demon. Curiosity brought Vergil to the woman, but ruthlessness had made him kill her. She was in no way stopping Vergil from achieving his goals.

His goals…meeting Crìnge. Was that really worth that woman's life? One humans life?

Sparda, the beloved hero had sacrificed a woman for his goals, but that was for the greater good; the priestess knew what she was getting into. Robyn, however, was only trying to help him anyway.

Vergil gritted his teeth. So now he was calling her by her name? His stomach lurched when he referred to her as 'human', or 'that woman'.

Plus, now that he had met Crìnge, what was he to do? Join the demon side? Betray his brother?

Or, return to the human side and betray his uncle?

He despised weak demons. But, he despised the weakness of humans.

_Then why is this Ro- woman plaguing my thoughts?_

Vergil suddenly slammed his fist down on the armrest of the throne, smacking his fist onto Force Edge. He shook his hand with pain.

He inhaled sharply through his teeth. He could not fool himself. He did not despise humans. In his training when he was younger, he had made himself believe that he did, because he thought that it would make him stronger. But, Vergil now knew that morals did not strengthen anything, save motivation and drive. He had thought that by being cold, calm, indifferent, he would become stronger as a warrior, which is what he had been lead to believe by studying the scriptures describing the way the old devils fought.

Humans had done him no wrong, but demons had. They had taken his mother and his childhood away from him, and also his brother. This had made him search for strength, strength to defend himself and his family. But now he had found his family in it's remnants, in his twin brother.

Vergil could not remember killing any humans. No wonder his conscience had never harassed him like it was now. He had killed to achieve his goals, yes, but never a human. He thought he had killed Arkham at one stage, but Arkham was evil anyway. Vergil was a warrior, not a murderer.

He could not murder humans. It had taken him his murdering of a human to realise it.

Vergil knew in his heart that he no longer wished to join the demon side, even though he had no desire to desert Crìnge. He had found what he came for. He confirmed Sparda's brother's existence, and learned about his power in the process. He now abandoned any thought of inferiority to Dante.

Vergil got to his feet. He knew what he must do. He had no place on this side of the war. He had no place in this chamber, outside of the battle either, come to think of it.

He picked up Force Edge and Yamato, placed them in their usual spots, then headed for the door.

He was going to fight, and help the humans overcome the demons. He was powerful, he could kill a higher devil, between his swordsmanship and his inner powers.

Speaking of which…

Vergil's supposed new powers. He had yet to discover them, or try them out.

Vergil stopped in his tracks in front of the large double doors, then slowly turned around.

Vergil focused his eyes on the broken halves of Betsy, and tried to make them levitate with his mind.

All that happened was that Vergil got a slight headache.

He pointed his fingers at Betsy, then raised his hands to point upwards.

Betsy shuddered for a moment, but this shocked Vergil so much that he relinquished his control and Betsy remained on the ground.

Vergil's mouth was open, and he looked at his hand in amazement. It was true, then.

He then noticed something, and realised he had forgotten something. Crìnge's sword, most probably named '_Crìnge_' itself, was still by the throne.

Vergil raised his hand at it, then focused hard.

He made a pulling gesture, and Crìnge zoomed towards him, spinning. Vergil caught it by the handle, and felt body glow with power. His mind too, he realised.

He pointed again at the fragments of Betsy, but this time made them fly upwards at a tremendous speed and shatter upon collision with the ceiling.

Crìnge's sword evidently made his inner powers more acute.

Lips curved slightly in satisfaction, Vergil left the chamber and found himself in the corridor.

He had no idea where to go.

Taking a guess, he took a passageway left.

* * *

"_WE'VE LOST ENTIRE BATALLIONS, SIR, ALL DEAD. WE'VE MADE NO PROGRESS - NO MATTER HOW MUCH WE PUMP THESE THINGS FULL OF LEAD THEY KEEP COMING WITHOUT A SCRATCH. REQUESTING BACK-UP, BUT I DON'T HONESTLY KNOW WHAT GOOD IT'LL DO. OVER."_

Generals Tailor and Granson stared grimly at the radio. The army chief of staff himself had arrived, Gen. Mathews, and his expression was the same as everybody else's.

"Reinforcements on their way, Major," he said "You just hold your ground and don't stop firing. Over and out."

He turned to Tailor.

"Send the 45th in. Let's hope it's the last regiment we have to sacrifice for this war."

"With all due respect, sir," Tailor replied "I don't think any number of men will make any difference. If two regiments can't do a job, then 3, 4, 5, or 20 can't."

"Noted. My order still stands, General. No matter the cost, we still need men to hold the line down there. It's apparent that the demons are on the counter-offensive. If we don't hold down there, then up here is next."

"We'd have artillery and air support," Granson commented.

Mathews took in a deep breath, and stroked his clean-shaven chin.

"Fine. The 45th is the last regiment we send in, after that we pull out."

Tailor sent the orders.

Mathews turned to Granson.

"What's the situation with the obelisk?"

"No report yet, sir," Granson answered "I'm sure I'm not the only one who noticed that the moment that obelisk started firing was the moment the demons retaliated, so utmost priority was given to our engineers to work out a way to stop it."

"Good. Good good." Mathews replied absent-mindedly.

Mathews was a fairly old, weathered man. He was white, with grey hair and a beardless face. He was fairly thin, especially as of late. His eyesight was worsening as he aged, but he refused point-blank to wear spectacles, be the advice from his doctor, his colleagues, or his wife.

"Incoming transmission," Tailor announced.

The radio blared into life. The heavy breaths of the radioman could clearly be heard, exactly as clearly as the roars of some unknown creature in the background, and as the screams, shouts and gunshots.

"_Sgt. O'Hehir, reporting on behalf of team Charlie of the 4__th__ battalion, 57__th__ Infantry regiment_," the panicked voice almost screamed into the radio.

"The 57th?" Tailor shouted back into the radio "Your colonel already reported that the 57th is virtually nonexistent. 4th battalion? Your Major Blunt is reporting to us regularly on the fight, what is the purpose of this call?"

"_Sir, we're pretty much alone here - just team Charlie and some Devil Hunters_."

"You're alone?!" barked Granson, his loud volume compensating for his distance from the radio "Who is your CO? Why is he ignoring orders?"

"_Lt. Jones, sir_!"

"You didn't answer my other question, sergeant!" Granson replied, as loudly as before. Tailor pulled him closer and tossed the speaker at him irritably "Put this Lt. Jones on the line - and why is this lieutenant commanding a company?"

There was some scuffling noises as the sergeant handed the radio over, and all that could be heard were the shouts and gunfire, and a single ear-splitting roar.

"_Lt. Jones, speaking_," Jones eventually reported.

"Lt. Jones, why the _hell_ are you commanding team Charlie? Where is your Captain?"

"_Cap. Brooke got killed on entrée to the Pyramid, sir. I am the next in command, sir."_

"Fine. Tell me this, why aren't you fighting with the rest of 4th battalion in the lower chamber? Did your Major not give you orders to proceed downwards?"

"_No, sir. We found our own problem to deal with - the Major ordered us to stay where we are and fight these things we found."_

"That leads me to my next question. What's that you're-"

Another roar made it impossible for Jones to hear what Granson said.

"…_that_ is what I was trying to ask, what the hell is _that_?"

"_I don't rightly know, sir, but it's bloody hard to-"_

This time it was a shouting human voice in the background that cut across.

"_Would you hurry the f_-" (another roar) "- _up_, _Jerry! We need all the help we can get_"

"I recognise that voice…" Granson growled, more to himself than to anyone else "…Jones, is that the goddamn smart-aleck devil hunter…what's his name now…sword, spear…pike…Pike!"

"_Yes, sir._"

Granson grunted thoughtfully.

"Well, anyway, what have you to report, Jones?"

"_We were hoping for reinforcements, sir!"_

"Negative. We have sent a whole regiment to back-up the forces in the bottom chamber, and if they fail, we're pulling out. You just hold your ground and try and keep alive - and finish your mission if you can - until then. We'll radio you're good sergeant O'Hehir if and when we're pulling out. If you finish your mission, proceed to the bottom chamber. Oh, and if that devil hunter gets himself killed, it's not the end of the world just yet. Over and out."

The radio transmission ended. Granson sighed and placed the speaker down on the table.

"It sounds like we'll need to fix this obelisk problem now more than ever," Tailor commented gravely "We need a report from the engineers immediately. Something has to be done."

The other two agreed, and so it was that the engineers were directly radioed.

The head engineer's report was inconclusive. The engineers hadn't the slightest clue what the obelisk was actually shooting, or how it was firing it.

His only suggestion was to quite literally bomb the hell out of it. He noted that somewhere closest to the bottom of the shaft would be best, as removing that would make the rest collapse. He also noted that the collapsing obelisk may do considerable damage to anything it fell on, and since the demons work in mysterious ways, dealing that much damage could have any effect on the rest of the pyramid, feasible or not.

With that report the Generals made their decision.

Get the men the hell out. Then bomb the shit outta the obelisk.

* * *

The large skeletal demon was showing no signs of tiring. The bodies of most of team Charlie, and several devil hunters littered the guardian chamber.

Sgt. O'Hehir had been killed, and the radio destroyed.

The creature's main attack was to swoop down and smash into it's prey, but it also occasionally seized it's prey with one of it's arms and crushed it.

But, the one, major pain in the ass about the demon was it's ability to restore the other, smaller guardians.

The rotating, Lìstook inscribed tablet of stone inside it's ribcage-like structure, with it's bands of glowing orange light, was the source of this ability. Every now and then, if the guardians were killed, the entire tablet of stone would revolve at an increased rate, the entire thing would glow orange, then an explosion of light, similar to the way the statue of Pontius made, burst from it, awakening the guardians again.

Bullets were not doing any visible damage to the bone of the demon, nor to the stone tablet.

The creature was too fast for the rocket launchers to make contact with the stone tablet.

Pike was rolling and firing like a madman, perhaps driven by the realisation that Anvil was slowly dieing. She had ceased fire, and had collapsed on the ground weakly. She was lying on her back, but she was conscious, her eyes were open, and her chest was rising and falling raggedly.

Pike kept as close to her as he could, and as often as he could. If a guardian made to attack her, the chances were that it would be shot down by a ruthless barrage of expertly-aimed bullets to the skull.

Whether they liked it or not, the fighters had to admit that they were making a futile attempt at survival. The bloodied corpses assorted around the room were a constant reminder of this grim fact.

The belt-fed mounted machine guns had long run out of ammunition, and their owners had taken up assault rifles from the cold hands of fallen comrades.

"We can't keep going like this!" Jones roared at Pike, expressing the views of everybody in the room "You know as well as I do that this thing's gonna kill us if we don't come up with something fast!"

"Shut up, don't you think I know that? What d'you expect _me_ to do?! For Christ's sake, where are those reinforcements you requested?!"

"HQ says they're not sending any. They say that they're gonna pull us out fairly soon. I don't know when. The radio's gone, so we're not going to."

"Good! I've never abandoned a mission, and I'm not planning on starting with this mission!" Pike shouted back, a bit unnecessarily, seeing as the two were now side by side.

"The fact still remains that we need help," Jones told him at his regular volume.

Pike pushed him roughly away, and he himself dived in the opposite direction. The large guardian swooped down, zooming through where the two men had been a second beforehand. Had they not escaped, it would have crushed their bones with it's body.

"Thanks!" Jones thanked Pike, once again shouting.

Jones' comment was, unfortunately, true. If they were getting no reinforcements, and they were not pulling out, they could not do this by themselves.

Anvil made a pitiful croaking sound, her lungs seemingly giving up halfway through inhaling.

Pike was crouched at her side within a second, sweating copiously.

"No, no," he repeatedly chanted anxiously "No…don't die on me yet, Anvil, just hold on, just hold on…" His voice cracked.

Anvil weakly stretched her trembling arm out and grasped onto the collar of Pike's coat, looking straight into his eyes. Pike bent forward closer, and whispered something to Anvil in a quavering voice.

Jones' heart went out for him, and he genuinely felt sorry for him Anvil's arm fell from Pike's coat and her eyes closed, and Pike made a strange sound between a cry and a hiccough, and it his chest heaved, an clear sign that he was crying. Her body was still trembling, though, which at least meant that she was still alive, but for how long was anyone's guess.

Suddenly, a lesser guardian soared swiftly up to Pike's crouching figure, claws bared.

Jones raised his assault rifle, but he knew that it was too late to shoot it down.

Just as Jones held his breath, preparing for what he knew was to come, when what seemed like a purple orb accompanied with a flash of silver appeared on the guardian, and the creature was cleaved in two, it's two halves falling to the floor.

Pike looked up, then around, as did Jones, and then they saw a most welcome sight; Vergil at the double-doors, placing Yamato in it's sheath. (The purple orb and flash of silver being what Vergil liked to call his 'Judgement Cut'.) On his back were two swords, one a regular broadsword, one a strange one obviously of demonic origins, the two were crisscrossed on his back.

Jones made a sudden 'oh!' as he remembered, as welcome a sight Vergil may have been at the moment, that it was one of Jones' orders to place him under arrest.

Well, Jones thought, that can wait 'til later - after he's finished saving our asses.

Vergil made no move for a while, but inspected the situation with a look of mild curiosity, reacting to the giant creature with a mere raise of an eyebrow.

"Commanding officer?" he called out.

"That would be me," Jones answered, as a blast of orange light emanated from the creature.

"_Sir_." Vergil corrected Jones with the smallest of grins.

"…sir." Jones replied, with a frown.

Vergil was obviously unaware that he had been stripped of his rank and was to be arrested. Better not inform him of this particular inconvenient piece of info. It would make things easier later if he didn't know what was happening.

"So. What is this thing?" Vergil asked Jones as he approached.

"I was hoping that you could tell me - sir."

Vergil surveyed the creature for a while.

"It's obvious that the stone is it's source of power. We just have to destroy it, and the demon will fall."

"That's what we thought as well, sir, but we can't find a way to destroy it. Bullets do no good. Missiles have all missed, and we're out of ammo for the missile launchers now."

"I see. Normally, when ranged fire has no effect, blades are the key to defeating demons. Or vice versa." Vergil told him, still watching the demon's progress around the room. After a moments careful aiming, he tried a Judgement cut, but to no effect.

He watched as the stone turned orange again, and the room was filled with the orange light.

The lesser guardians re-awakened, and the ground battle continued.

Vergil helped in clearing out the smaller guardians, then turned back to Jones when the last one died.

"I presume you noticed how the stone lit up when it unleashed the light?"

"Of course, sir."

"My bet is that the time to attack it is then. Most demons cannot unleash their power and defend it at the same time. Wait until it turns orange again."

Jones repeated the advice loudly out for everybody else to hear.

Everybody held their fire until the stone lit up again, and then opened fire on the stone.

Remarkably, the bullets took chips of the stone off, and the demon roared in either pain or frustration. The light exploded outwards again, and, as expected, the lesser guardians re-assembled and came back to life.

The great demon became much more aggressive after that, realising that the humans had found a way to harm it. It would swoop down on enemies much more frequently, and when it managed to grab a target it would finish him/her with a much bloodier and painful manner; ripping limbs off bit by bit, pulling the head straight off, for example.

Then the demon made it's greatest mistake; it swooped down at Vergil.

Vergil anticipated the demons attack, and flipped high over it's arm as it tried to grab him, slicing at it's extended arm with Yamato.

As it habitually does, Yamato cut clean through the arm, which fell off and crashed loudly when it hit the ground.

Jones could not help but give an admiring whistle.

Vergil, despite himself, let out a laugh as he landed on his feet, and gave his beloved katana a little flourish before sheathing it.

The demon howled, this time surely out of pain, and fell to the ground. It was still alive, and it immediately got right back up and continued to fly about, but it's erratic movements made it seem that it was in it's last moments.

The demon made the stone go orange again - it's final mistake.

Vergil thinking fast (and also trying to practise his newfound ability), focused on the arm of the demon, with the claws outstretched straight. The arm rose, seemingly of it's own accord, and, like a bullet from a gun, fired straight into the stone tablet in the centre of the demon's ribcage. The razor-sharp claws dug into the stone as if it were only a loaf of bread, and remained jammed in it.

With what sounded like glass breaking, the bands of orange light revolving around the stone faded away, and the stone grey again.

The demon gave one, last bloodcurdling shriek, then the lights where it's eyes were dimmed away, then it crashed into the ground with tremendous force, covering the room in a cloud of dust.

There was silence for a while as the survivors took in deep breaths, and were amazed that they were still alive.

The dust subsided, and Vergil threw his old self out and smiled at those around him.

He had fought and saved all of their lives, and it felt good. It was like they all owed him. Plus, he was now sure which side he was on, and why he was fighting - something he had never been secure with before.

He had never enjoyed himself in battle so much before.

He then noticed that everybody's attention turned to the woman lying on the ground and the man crouched beside her.

He made his way through the crowd and crouched beside the woman, who he recognised as one of the devil hunters who he had fought alongside in New York.

"Anvil…isn't it?" he asked Pike, who nodded grimly, his face filled with tears.

Vergil placed his hand on Anvil's wrist.

"There's a pulse. What happened to her?"

"One of those…things did something to her. We think it cursed her," a devil hunter answered from the crowd surrounding them.

"The Mummy's Curse…" Vergil muttered "…under normal circumstances, when you kill the demon that cast a curse, the effects wear off. The curse should stop eating away at her, but her system has yet to recover from the damage. She may or may not live - her system is weak as it is, if anything else harms it that could finish her off."

Pike seemed to choke on something, and relief spread across his features.

"Right! Right…we need to get her out of here. There should be a field hospital at army HQ, right?"

Jones nodded.

"Great. Here, some of you lazy shits help me lift her, I'm not doing it by myself," Pike stated to those around him, and he was apparently back to his normal self.

Several devil hunters laughed, and between Pike and one other hunter, Anvil was lifted up.

Jones was laughing with them when he noticed Vergil was already leaving.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, running after Vergil, who eyed him curiously.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I have to take you back to headquarters."

"Why?"

"I - ah," Jones stammered. How was he going to explain? "They're - they're looking for you at HQ. I have orders to bring you back if I find you."

Perfect, Jones thought. Just pretend that you weren't told everything, and that you don't know why you have to bring him back.

Vergil seemed satisfied with this answer.

"Fine. But, I have things I need taking care of. Then, I will return to headquarters."

Jones did not know what had to be done, but he considered it a possibility that Vergil already knew that he was to be arrested, and that Vergil was just trying to escape.

Jones did know for sure that if HQ ever found out that he had let Vergil go, he would be court marshalled.

However, Jones did feel indebted to the half-devil for saving the lives of the remainder of his company, and Vergil was correct in his feeling that these soldiers somehow owed him.

"Yes, sir." Jones said, saluting Vergil.

Vergil just nodded, then departed.

Jones knew full well the consequences of his actions, should HQ discover what happened. And these things have a nasty habit of coming out.

* * *

However, as that was taking place, the human forces elsewhere inside the pyramid were in full retreat.

The Order were confused no end. They found it hard to believe that the humans would pull back so suddenly and give up on an objective after pouring so many men into it.

Those who could read minds discovered nothing; the soldiers weren't informed as to why they were running like hell. The men can't tell what they don't know.

Joel was disappointed. He had killed several soldiers, but had stayed away from the Devil Hunters. But now the fight was over.

He turned to face his comrades, many of whom evidently shared this sentiment.

Still, the excessive pile of human bodies in the chamber was a testament to the demonic victory, he thought.

And the capture of one of the human's heroes, the great Dante, was another symbol of demonic victory.

"_So,_" he said to Pontius as the Order crowded together "_We are victorious. The humans have given up. You have all the room you need to rebuild your army."_

There were murmurs of agreement amongst the Order, and Joel felt slightly proud to have made input into the Order itself and it being deemed worthy.

"_No,_" Crìnge stated. The Order fell silent.

"_The human warlord is rarely a cunning one. The humans would not have pulled back unless they had a plan. Communication from the headquarters to the troops is never made unless for a good reason, from my experience. The Warlords would not have known how badly they were losing down here - they often make a point not to. No, I have a feeling that the warlords have their own reason for pulling their soldiers out. The greatest caution must be maintained until we determine what that reason is."_

As generally is within the Order, Crìnge's words were final.

Outside, along the corridors, the soldiers were making their way out as fast as possible. Vergil caught up with some retreating soldiers and realised that he had to escape as well, as there would be no troops left in the pyramid. Luckily, Charlie company of the 4th battalion, 57th Regiment and the remaining devil hunters also caught up with fleeing comrades, and also made their way out.

Soon, the only ones left inside were the Order and Dante.

* * *

The captain of an artillery company had received a call that all troops were outside of the pyramid, and that he should begin the barrage as soon as possible.

He had radio communications with the soldiers at their artillery batteries, and he was to give them the order that they were to fire simultaneously, at the exact same coordinates.

"All batteries at the ready!" he spoke into the radio.

In turn, the radio churned out responses from each battery stating that the artillery battery in question was loaded, aimed at the precise coordinates, and ready to fire.

"Begin firing at my count - 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...**FIRE**!"

The captain hurriedly brought his hands to his ears as an earthshaking _**BOOM**_ rumbled from each of the artillery batteries. The captain placed on his binoculars and looked at the target.

Along the shaft of the obelisk, at a point near where it came out of the ground, was a large crack.

'_Just a crack?'_ the captain thought to himself, severely disappointed at the damage inflicted.

He continued to look at the target through his binoculars, as though hoping for the obelisk to explode late, as though the laws of physics had paused for a brief minute, then came back into effect.

There was no late explosion, but the captain was delighted that something else happened. The crack expanded along the obelisk, horizontally, but not cleanly.

The crack continued to expand until an incredibly loud groaning noise was heard, and the obelisk tilted to the side, slowly at first, but then it gradually picked up speed, until it came crashing down. It had stopped firing the red energy, as was hoped.

The obelisk smashed into the bottom part of the pyramid, the maze, but it's momentum was so great that it continued smashing down, down into the lower levels of the pyramid.

Grinning broadly, the captain took up the radio and spoke clearly and confidently, to HQ:

"Target eliminated."

* * *

Vergil had Yamato held tightly in his hand, and was backing slowly away from the masses of dart-gun armed soldiers aiming at him.

They had already tried to fire at him, but a spinning Yamato had cut cleanly through the rounds.

A large amount of slashed syringes lay on the ground, their contents spilled into the sand.

He continued taking slow steps backwards, all the time furiously wondering where he was going.

His devil form had no wings, but he wondered if wielding Crìnge's sword would change that.

A single soldier fired his gun again without receiving orders.

The syringe stopped it's trajectory in midair, then rotated to face at the soldier, then went flying at him, hitting him in the throat.

With a choking sound, the soldier fell to the ground.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE, GODDAMIT!" the colonel bellowed at his men.

The rest of the dart-armed soldiers were now under no obligation to fire again, knowing the consequences.

Vergil put his free hand to his back and gripped Crìnge, then devil triggered.

The soldiers facing him gasped, and tightened their grips on their weapons.

Vergil felt immensely powerful suddenly, but he felt no wings at his back.

He cursed.

He decided that he could just not do with having all of these soldiers pointing their guns at him, and he felt he ought to try out his new devil trigger.

He put Crìnge on his back, and pointed his hand at the platoon of soldiers, then gestured away.

The entire platoon consisting of 20 soldiers were sent flying off their feet a couple of metres away.

Vergil laughed out loud. Now _this_ was fun.

But, still, it would not help him escape.

He heard shouts from nearby. He turned to look, and saw that the Devil Hunters had all reunited, but they too were new targets of the military, most likely for insubordination and their 'harbouring a fugitive'.

They were repelling fire, firing warning shots of their own in return, and had made it to a large group of _HellBane_ choppers.

Vergil allowed himself a small chuckle as he deduced that they were intending on hijacking the choppers. This was his chance.

He ran as fast as he could towards the Devil Hunters, and to most soldiers he was merely a black and dark-blue blur.

The Devil Hunters had made it onto the choppers, and were divided into groups depending on which of them could actually _fly _a helicopter.

He leaped onto the nearest one just as the blades started spinning, and reverted to his human form. He landed in a crouched position, due to the distance he leaped.

There were the sounds of multiple guns being pointed at him. He looked up.

Trish, Lady, Pike and an unconscious Anvil were the occupants of the chopper. Enzo was the pilot in the cockpit. Lady and Trish were the two pointing their guns at him.

"_You_," Trish spat.

"It's okay," Pike told them quickly "He saved our lives. Let him be."

In an almost disappointed fashion, the two lowered their weapons.

* * *

Stones and rubble were falling from the ceiling, and rumbling was heard from all directions. The Order were quick to notice this, of course, and they were all making hurried conversation as to what they should do.

One demon smiled and asked the others where they would like to go. Pontius named a location that Joel had never heard of, and the others smiled.

The demon muttered something for a moment while making strange movements and gestures, and, with a flash of white light, a disc of light appeared on the floor, with light coming upwards from it.

One by one, the Order stepped into it and vanished.

Crìnge turned to Dante, clicked, and Dante fell face first to the ground.

"You're life is not yet over," he said coolly to Dante "I am sure that you'll find a way out. Farewell, for now."

With that, he stepped into the disc of light.

The devil who cast it gave Dante a triumphant smirk, then stepped into the light and then both he and the portal disappeared.

Dante got to his feet and rubbed his bleeding nose. He was fairly sure it was broken, but it was already starting to heal.

He looked around the chamber and gave an irritated grunt.

"Why the hell does _everything_ have to fall apart around me?!" he asked loudly to nobody in particular.

Seeing as he had only one option, Dante decided to take it, and ran as fast as his stiff legs would allow him towards where he knew the lift was.

One passageway was blocked by rubble, but he knew that they pretty much all led back to the lift room, and spared no time in wondering which direction to go.

Upon arrival to the lift room, Dante found the lift broken, the demonic rune refusing to light up.

Dante let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that he would have to climb up himself.

Fortunately, unlike his twin, Dante was capable of flight, and with a sharp preparatory intake of breath, Dante leaped into the air and triggered, then flew upwards.

After a short flight, Dante reached ground level, and he continued flying over the walls of the maze, and he paused only for a moment to behold the awesome sight of the collapsed obelisk.

He landed just outside the pyramid and turned back into his human form.

As soon as he was spotted, soldiers pointed their guns at him.

"Hey, guys," Dante called out in a rather worried tone to them "Don't suppose you've -"

He was cut off as countless weapons fired, and Dante stumbled back with the force.

His head became inexplicably hazy.

"Heyyyy…" Dante retorted lazily, but did not have the energy to finish his sentence.

He only barely had enough energy to pull a round from his chest, then notice with an interested "Oh." that he had been shot with a ridiculous amount of darts.

Then, all went black.

* * *

_Joe: Wahey, that's the whole Egypt ordeal done with!_

_Ah, the relief. Of course, the fic is not done - far from it. Well, not __that__ far from it, but were at __least__ past the halfway mark. Or two thirds of the way. Depends how much I decide to put into each chapter._

_Well, in my opinion, this is where the plot gets interesting again. Maybe you found it interesting up until now, who knows, but I'll much better enjoy writing the next chapters._

_Won't ruin it by saying why._

_Well, you know the usual, please, please review, and huge thanks to those that continue to do so on a regular basis. Love you guys._

_For those of you who review on an irregular basis…I _like_ you lots, but don't quite _love_ you. A few extra reviews may change that._

_I think that's a fair deal. Review, and you get my love, awww._

_That's just cos I don't have enough money to hand around. When broke, offer people love instead. Words to live by._

_Don't expect an update soon, I'm going on my holidays for three weeks. That doesn't mean don't review. I'm not gone yet - I'll be gone next week._

_Anyways, Ciao._


	23. Larimore's Decision

_Disclaimer: Funnily enough, I still don't own Devil May Cry. Who'd have thunk. _

_Joe: I'm back, after what I'm sure you feel was too long a break. No? Bugger. _

_Anyways, you'll notice that I've changed a lot of my previous chapters._

_Chapter 3 has gone through the biggest change, and it may be worth your while to read it again (I think I should mention that in ch. 3, I said that there was an Emperor of China...was I by any chance _drunk_ when I wrote ch. 3? Dear God that was embarrassing to see I actually wrote that). There are other, less important changes, but one's I felt were necessary. Chapter 4 has some sizable changes, but not that many._

_For instance, the twins no longer have those pager-like things that I temporarily forgot about. Also, I've changed it so that soldiers of sin decompose after death like lesser-demons. The significance of this is that it isn't such an unfortunate coincidence that it appeared to Joel that Vergil killed Andrè, seeing as there was no soldier of sin behind Andrè after Vergil stabbed through it._

_I've gotten rid of any lame jokes I found (there were a worrying amount of these, actually), as well as adding some better ones. (I hope). Any section of an author's note where I complain has been gotten rid of as well._

_One last change that's important enough to mention (well okay it's not that important but I'll mention it anyway). In the Battle of the Divine I said that the soldiers were armed with AK-47s and RPGs. What a grim day for the US army it would be if that ever were true. I've upgraded their equipment to M16s and Stingers (I can't remember what a stinger's proper name is)._

_Something else you should all know: Gromit and I are experiencing minor... difficulties with the e-mail adress we use for our Fanfiction account. To put it simply, we can't get into it. That means any private messages won't be read, and we don't get any alerts, etc. The webmail site we were using boasted that it was updating to a new, better webmail, which they evidently felt would be a webmail without us._

_Another point of interest is that between the last and chapter and now, I've bought and played DMC4 (with a newly acquired shiny new PS3 might I add :D)._

_I'm fairly annoyed with the fact that there were some parts of the plot that I originally intended to use myself (spoilers ahead, so skip to the story if you haven't played DMC4 andcare about the plot). For instance, people capturing demons and trying to play God. I'll still throw it in, of course, but please don't think I'm stealing from DMC4. It won't be the same way, either._

_It's also necessary to note that **I still won't be putting anything got to do with DMC4 in this. Maybe. I may throw something in for a twist, but I wouldn't hold your breath.**_

_Sadly enough, I'm going to end this thrilling author's note, and begin the comparatively boring chapter. Just kidding. Enjoy._

* * *

"Care to explain why we're not blowing his brains out?" Lady asked Pike testily, referring to Vergil, who had taken a seat in the _HellBane_ copter they were in.

"Because he saved our asses in that pyramid," Pike replied simply. He was keeled down on the floor of the copter beside a still unconscious Anvil "Besides, shooting him is not gonna do much good anyway, is it?"

Grumbling, Lady lowered her handgun, but then asked;

"But he killed that Robyn girl, didn't he?"

Pike said nothing, but looked to Vergil to answer. Vergil, who had already zoned out, returned to earth to realise he was expected to answer a question. He cleared his throat to allow himself time to figure out what they wanted him to answer.

"I know what I did and can only apologise," he answered eventually with a grim expression "But rest assured, I'm done with that kind of thing."

"I'd certainly hope so," Trish commented, her gun holstered "But that won't do any good to Robyn's friends and family."

Vergil had no reply to this, and only sighed sadly. Satisfied that he was genuinely sorry and repentant, the subject was dropped - for the time being.

There was silence for a good while. The copter was not tailed by any army aircraft, which Vergil assumed had something to do with Tailor.

Suddenly, Anvil gave a low groan. Pike, who had previously been seated, darted to her side anxiously.

Pike's lips shivered as Anvil's eyes slowly opened. Everybody else bar Enzo were standing up now, closer to Anvil's form.

Pike put his trembling right hand on Anvil's still, prone hand and gripped it firmly, but not tightly.

Anvil's eyes met Pikes, and they held for a few meaningful seconds.

_Smack!_

Anvil's free hand found itself in sharp collision with Pike's face. Pike recoiled, his own hand brought up to cover the sizable red mark on his face. He frowned and gave her a questioning look, and still nobody said anything.

Then, just as sudden she had slapped him, Anvil rose swiftly up to kiss Pike full on the lips. They both held, and Pike wrapped his arms around her.

The others exchanged smug smirks, Vergil with raised eyebrows.

"Dear God, we need to get to a hospital, that wound obviously screwed her head up," Enzo's voice came from the cockpit, who was turned round to face the group.

Everybody laughed, including the couple who split to do so.

Anvil needed to answer a few questions in regard to her health, but apart from overall weakness, there was nothing wrong. According to Vergil, the symptoms she had would eventually heal, and she just needed to rest until then.

Vergil himself had to then answer a few questions from a suspicious Anvil, but everything registered okay with her when he finished, thanks to Pike's contribution.

Nothing else of interest occurred for at least half an hour until Enzo presented them a problem:-

"Guys – I don't suppose any of you guys know another way to get home? The juice in this chopper's not going to last us to America. Up until now I've been heading towards Cairo, but I doubt they'll let us through the airport peacefully."

"You're _kidding_ me" Lady barked in annoyed disbelief.

"If only. We gotta make a decision – and fast. Any ideas?" Enzo responded gloomily.

Nobody answered him.

"Right," Enzo commented "Then we're in deep shit."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a long while after that, each person attempting to uncover some miracle solution to their problem.

Strangely enough, it was Pike who eventually spoke up:

"Is it just fuel that's our problem?"

"Yup." Enzo answered "Why?"

"Couldn't we just...'_borrow'_ some from the airport? I'm sure they'd have helicopter fuel."

"It's the airport that we want to avoid," Trish pointed out.

"Oh. Damn."

They fell back into silence, but this time it was broken sooner, this time by Vergil.

"So it's the air in general that's our problem. What about the sea? Have we enough fuel to reach the coast?"

Enzo's expression brightened.

"Yeah! We got at least another couple of hours left, just not enough to reach America."

"Hang on," Lady interjected "What do we do once we reach the coast? Even if we managed to hijack a long-distance boat, Enzo – or any of us, for that matter – can't sail a boat."

"That's never been an obstacle for anybody ever," Anvil told her hoarsely "We could just smuggle on board a trawler or something. I'm sure that there are hundreds of sailors by the coast who'll take bribes."

"Bribes of what?" Lady said, once again putting down a theory "No-one has any money on hand, and I don't know about any of you, but _I'm_ not willing to do any '_favours_' for any sailors"

Most of the others frowned at this – apart from Vergil, who, for all his intelligence, was very innocent in terms of what Lady meant by 'favours'.

"No, but we've got a helicopter," he pointed out reasonably "Which is loaded with military-issue weaponry, and I'm certain there are plenty of people who are willing to bargain for those kinds of goods. And if all else fails -" his tone darkened as he held up Yamato " - they'll be willing to bargain for their lives."

* * *

It was night back home in the States – a pleasant one at that, Senator Larimore noticed.

It was hard for him to find fault in anything right now (save for his political opponent's policies, that is), as things were running _very_ smoothly for him. The republican nomination was long in the bag, and by the looks of things, Larimore would soon have the position of president of the USA in that bag also.

His chauffeur opened the door and Larimore stepped out of the sleek black limousine. The senator gave his well-rehearsed smile to his chauffeur and gave his thanks. Larimore gave out a contented sigh, taking in the crisp night air, then strolled through the main doors of his current 5-star hotel.

The foyer never looked so beautiful to him, and the smell of polished mahogany never so relaxing. A bell-boy hurried to him and handed Larimore his room keys, telling the senator how good it was to see him this evening, as per his job description.

Larimore gave the boy his stock smile, then bade him goodnight as Larimore took the lift up to the penthouse.

Even the god-awful elevator music could not remotely lower Larimore's mood.

He opened his door upon exiting the elevator, stepped in, and turned on the lights to a beautifully decorated entrance hallway, and he breathed in the smell of the automatic scented air-fresheners that activated upon turning on the light.

He closed the door behind him and strode to the door of his office in the penthouse.

Again, he turned on the lights upon entree, then made to sit down by his desk.

All of a sudden, the lights went off.

"Wha- ?"

Larimore almost tripped over himself, but regained stability by securing himself against his desk. He then fumbled along the ground in the dark to locate his glasses, which fell off as he nearly fell.

He found them after a thorough search along the polished wooden floor, then placed them back on.

He stood up, and he mumbled to himself in annoyance. The lights couldn't possibly be out. He only just booked into the hotel two days ago, and they surely must have placed fresh bulbs in upon his arrival. His office had a window with a view over the city, and Larimore could see that a nearby skyscraper still had functioning lights, so it wasn't a black-out.

Larimore turned round to try the light switch. Upon flicking it, he was rewarded with light again, and he took a moment to let his eyes adjust. Shaking his head, Larimore turned to seat himself by his desk again, but before he could do so a figure grabbed him swiftly from behind, placing his or her hand over Larimore's mouth to prevent him screaming or calling for help.

The figure pinned him onto Larimore's own desk in an inverted-L position, then gagged and bound his arms and legs.

The figure made some sounds behind Larimore, and it sounded like s/he was taking something from a pocket or package.

Larimore did not know how the person managed to evade detection by security, and managed to reach the penthouse. Someone of this skill must have been hired – and/or the hotel knew about this, and either was bribed or was behind it.

In either case, Larimore first suspected a terrorist organisation attempting to kidnap a presidential candidate, then he thought of an assassination plot. But in the latter's case, why wasn't he dead already? A terrorist it must be, he deduced.

The terrorist behind him placed something heavy on the ground. After about a second, a strong gust of wind ravaged Larimore's office, making a horrible wailing sound, breaking some ornaments, and knocking his personal laptop off the desk from in front of his own eyes. Larimore had no idea what that thing on the ground could possibly be.

Whatever it was unleashed a blinding flash of light from behind him, and the wind stopped.

A chortle could be heard behind him, and a strange voice spoke something in a foreign language. Whoever it was sounded pleased.

At last, it spoke to him, in strained English.

"My dear Senator......it is truly a pleasure to meet you...if you'll pardon the actions of my protegee here...it was necessary to ensure you did not flee while I arrived..."

Larimore's binds and gag were relinquished, although nobody untied them.

Larimore trembled as he turned around, then he gasped.

Before him was what appeared to be a living statue of some form of strange knight, but with light pouring through cracks in the surface, and through the eyes of the statue. Larimore noticed that it was missing one of it's forearms.

Calmly standing beside the statue was a young man – about the same age as Larimore's own college-student son. He was dressed all in black; a black t-shirt and pants, and a black trenchcoat which the boy kept unzipped. In his arms was a strange looking stone – a circular tablet of sorts, with a unusual engraving on the centre, which was the origin of the wind, light, and eventually the statue-like being, which now confidently strode to the other side of the desk and sat down on Larimore's own chair.

"Do have a seat...won't you?"

The being's voice was deep, and hoarse, although the statue seemed to be cheerful – although without any facial expressions it was difficult to be sure.

Larimore, trembling, hesitantly took the chair facing the desk where visitors sat. The young man stepped over to Larimore's side, watching him carefully.

"The boy is quite good, isn't he?" the statue commented cheerfully. The lips of the statue never moved as it spoke "...a quick learner, I must say......ah, but how rude I am being!... Allow me to introduce myself...I, my name is Pontius, and I have a good feeling that you will be seeing a lot of me lately."

The statue gestured towards the young man with his only hand.

"This charming young man is Joel, my protegee...again, I must apologise for the nature of my entree...as I said, Joel needed to ensure that you remained on hand while I was summoned...my presumption was that you would either flee or suffer heart...difficulties...... You aren't the fit young American football quarterback you used to be..."

Larimore's mind appeared to have re-activated, and he spared no time in demanding to know what was going on – albeit, in a frightened tone, which admittedly ruined the effect.

"Who – who are you and what the _hell_ is your business?"

The young man quickly exchanged a glance with Pontius, who shook his head, and was chuckling slightly at Larimore's ironic choice of words.

"My business?...Well, my business is _your_ business, my friend," Pontius replied cryptically, chortling at Larimore's bemused expression.

Larimore, though still intimidated by the thing and his bodyguard, was starting to build up confidence.

"What do you mean by that? And I still don't have any reason not to call security."

"Let's not make this difficult, Harold..." Pontius said quietly ".........besides, I should hope you value the lives of the security guards enough to keep them away from me..."

Larimore had no response to this. He kept quiet, while examining Pontius up and down, trying to estimate whether or not Pontius really could fight off a gang of security guards. It seemed strange enough that he was living statue of sorts, so Larimore really couldn't guess.

"To business, then" Pontius stated cheerfully "...first of all, Harold, about this demon 'conspiracy'...well, my first item of business is to inform you that, yes, demons exist."

Larimore would normally scoffed at this sort of statement, but given the current circumstance he kept silent.

"...we – the Order, that is, found it necessary to hide our existence from you previously...we found it best that you yourself did not believe in demons until we deemed it necessary..."

Pontius paused to look out at the night skyline of the city through the large window.

Joel kept a keen eye on Larimore, should the senator attempt to escape. He remained silent the whole time.

"Anyway......" Pontius continued slowly "...now for some good news. We can ensure your victory in the presidential elections..."

Larimore could not believe his ears. He was having a most peculiar night, having spent the past while not believing any of his senses. But, still, it also seemed strange that these..._demons,_ if they were what they said they were, would actually be here to help him.

"How?" Larimore finally asked suspiciously.

Pontius chortled again, and even Joel beside him smirked.

"My dear Harold!" Pontius answered merrily "...did you ever wonder how you got this far so easily?...Your rival candidate, the current President Raelson won by an outstanding majority the first time, did he not?...Did you never wonder why the country appeared to turn against him so wholeheartedly?...Why, we've been helping you from the shadows from the beginning!"

Larimore was taken aback. He put his hand slowly to his head as he shook it.

"I understand how upsetting this is for you..." Pontius said comfortingly "...my sympathies...quite a blow to the self-esteem, I would imagine......anyway, moving on. We will only ensure your victory if you agree to follow our orders."

Larimore tensed, knowing what this meant. In the past few minutes he had discovered the existence, and of their interest in his affairs. And they offer him his lifelong dream, at the expense of being their puppet. What horrible things would they make him do?

Could he do that? _Would_ he do that? Betray his race for the sake of power?

A question, whether he knew it or not, had plagued the minds of many before him.

Words came, unbidden, out of his mouth.

"No."

"_No?_" Pontius repeated in disbelief.

"I won't do it," Larimore said in a quavering voice.

"You cannot become President without our help," Pontius told him realistically.

"That's not the point...I can't...do that to my people..." Larimore explained sadly.

Pontius exchanged a glance with Joel, then sighed.

"...I had dearly hoped it would not come to this, Harold..."

Pontius no longer sounded cheerful. His voice was lowered, and sounded frankly menacing to Larimore.

"Come...to what?" Larimore queried, not really wanting the answer.

Pontius appeared to take a deep breath, then answered.

"...Your wife, Ellen Larimore drives your youngest daughter, Sarah, to Seven Acres private high-school Monday to Friday..."

Larimore's body seized up. His family. They were going to threaten his family.

"...her car may just malfunction one day...exploding due to unknown reasons...neither your wife nor your daughter would survive..."

Larimore took in a deep, rattling breath, unable to accept what he was hearing. But it did not stop there.

"...Conner, your son...attends Harvard...quite an expensive education, to be sure...he sleeps on campus, of course...one would certainly _hope_ that the roof would not collapse, killing all inside, including Conner of course..."

"I -" Larimore tried, but Pontius was not finished.

" -Daryl, your eldest...she works as a lawyer...she has already achieved her college degree, but, as life works in mysterious ways, death in turn, does also...she may one day fall violently ill...terminally ill...cardiac arrests are rare for women so young, but are not unheard of...wouldn't you agree, Harold?"

Larimore was a shivering wreck, sweat flowing copiously down his forehead, his cheeks gone an unhealthy shade. Pontius mercifully gave him all the time he needed to accept what he just heard.

"...fine...fine...just – just...just leave my family alone...I'll do what you want..."

"A pleasure doing business with you, Harold..." Pontius stated, immediately sounding quite cheerful again.

He nodded towards Joel, who placed the stone tablet on the ground again. He bent down and placed his hand on it.

The strange demonic marking in the centre shone brilliantly, and started to revolve. After a few seconds, it was revolving at an incredible speed, and a dazzling beam of light exploded from it up to the ceiling, and the wind returned.

Joel stepped in and vanished. Pontius made to follow him, but turned at the last moment to say one last thing to Larimore.

"Keep this transport safe...I will come and go when the need arises...goodbye, Mr. President, I expect I shall be seeing you soon."

* * *

"Ohhhhh..."

Dante awoke with a splitting headache, a headache so bad that his vision was impaired when he opened his eyes.

There was a constant blur throughout the room he was in. It was as if somebody had adjusted the 'contrast' setting on their television, but only on his eyes.

The place had that sterile smell that hospitals and dental surgeries so often have. He could hear a faint buzzing sound, but could not yet identify the source.

Dante slowly sat up, and came to realise that he was clothed in some form of white scrubs, like a patient.

He then realised the much more important fact that he was located in a locked cell, in which there was the small, single bed he was sitting on, a chair, a toilet and a sink.

There was also the added luxury of a security camera.

The cell was not a barred one, but one door with a slot for a card key.

The buzzing noise was the light on the ceiling. Nearby on the ceiling, Dante noticed what looked like several sprinklers, but could not guess their purpose.

Dante groaned again, and lay back down, covering his face with his hands.

After a couple of minutes, there was a swishing sound as the door slided open electronically, followed by footsteps.

"Ah, I see you've finally woken up."

Dante slightly moved a finger from his eye to allow himself to examine the newcomer.

It was a man in his mid-thirties in full army uniform. The insignia on his shoulder indicated lieutenant. The man was clean-shaven, with close-cut blonde hair. His jacket was neatly buttoned the full way up.

"My name is Lieutenant Killen and I'm going to be your proverbial owner."

Dante smirked to himself.

"_Owner_?" he hoarsely responded, but the contempt was not lost upon Lt. Killen.

"That's right," he responded, an unpleasant grin plastered across his face "From now on your quite literally my _pet, _scum. And if I had my way, you'd be put down by now. You and the rest of your kind, so you keep civil to me, or else. "

Needless to say, Dante instantly disliked the man. Dante took his hands from his face entirely and sat up to look directly at the man.

"Don't suppose you've got a girlfriend, then," Dante stated casually.

"None of your business," Lt. Killen spat.

Dante gave a small laugh.

"Didn't think so. Don't seem the loving type, if you don't mind me saying..."

Killen breathed in sharply, about to give an angry retort, but contained himself. He took in several calming breaths, then approached Dante slowly, who didn't blink.

"I had a feeling that it would be like this," Killen hissed maliciously "Let me tell you this, though. Things will go much more... comfortably for you if you learn to shut it and just do what I say."

Lt. Killen turned round and headed for the door.

"Wait." Dante asked him.

Killen paused.

"I'm listening."

"What is this place? Why am I here? Or do they tell the grunts that kind of thing?"

Killen spun round furiously.

"I thought I told you to show respect for me. Hah. Grunt?... As for your location, I can't tell you. I can tell you that this is a location designed specifically for the treatment of...you _things_. You'll learn it's purpose soon enough."

Killen turned around again, and exited.

Dante sighed. Essentially, he was imprisoned. Plus, whoever lead this place saw fit to assign to him an 'owner' with anger issues.

All of a sudden, Dante heard Killen's voice, though it was coming from a speaker. Killen was using a control from the other side of the door.

"_Before I leave, I think I'll leave a little parting gift to teach you the consequences to disrespecting your superiors_"

Dante frowned. What could Killen possibly do to him of any remote effect?

To answer his question, the sprinklers on the ceiling burst into action simultaneously.

The moment the liquid came into contact with him, he let out a scream of agony as steam rose from his burning skin.

Holy Water.

Lieutenant Killen strolled down the corridor away from Dante's cell with a contented smile, horrible shouts of anguish echoing down the corridor.

* * *

_Joe: Gone a bit dark, don't you think?_

_Anyway, please review and all that jazz. If you want to send me or Gromit a private message, or reply to a review either of us (or both of us) sent you, please just do so via a review to any of our fics. Thanks._

_Ciao._


	24. Institutionalised

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, or any of it's associations. More importantly, there's no profit to be made, and if there was I wouldn't get a cent of it._

_Joe: Just be wary of the fact that I may change previous chapters randomly as I go on. If I make any plot-important changes, I'll be sure to let you know, but otherwise it's just to keep me happy. In that case nothing has been changed except something I feel could have been phrased better, or either deleted or improved upon a bad joke, or just a little change that was bugging me._

_One or two people were a little unconvinced about the whole holy water idea. I felt that if it harms demons, it only makes sense that Dante would be affected. The argument was made that he uses it, and therefore can't be inflicted by it. He uses guns too, doesn't he? And I don't need to explain that guns hurt him. I shouldn't, anyway._

_Just a note; there's not going to be any action in this chapter. Hey, it's been war for the past ten or so, so I suppose you can't complain. Feel free to, though. I can't stop you. And I've never had to say this before, but any reference to actual people, places or real events is purely accidental._

_Also, most importantly, you may have noticed a change to the author's note of my first chapter. No? Go back and read it. It's about the chronology of this fic._

_I'll just get to it, then._

* * *

Dante lay on the bed, his eyes wide open, and his arms wrapped around himself to keep himself warm. There was no heating in his cell.

It stood to reason that it was intentional, Dante thought. Since he arrived in the facility his life ran like the arms of a clock. Everything was surgically planned and carried out. He was woken up at eight o' clock sharp by the activation of the lights, direct to the second. He was fed ten minutes later - a slot in the door opened to allow a guard to feed breakfast through it. The food varied on the day. For the most part it was a paste of sorts, and the colour also depended on the day. Different contents contained within the paste, Dante figured.

Dante was informed that a team of nutritionists and scientists closely monitored his diet, monitoring how his body functioned, what nutrients it used up, for what function and at what rate, and that was compared to the "standard" human equivalent.

To ensure accuracy over the reading of his bodily operations, Dante's system was purged at the beginning. This consisted of them feeding him certain toxins that would cause his body to reject whatever it was currently digesting or using. In practise, that meant that Dante spent hours of hell vomiting, excreting, and sweating at an agonising rate, ending in his collapse on a heap on the floor.

Because the good doctors monitoring him were regarding him as a totally different species, they decided to figure out what Dante's body considered a poison, and what it considered food. Some days Dante felt relatively fine, other days he felt mildly nauseous, his semi-demonic body eliminating the threat of poison before it caused damage – which the scientists and doctors found highly interesting, resulting them in feeding him stronger doses of poison to determine exactly how strong his immune system was.

As well as testing his metabolism, Dante was put through demanding physical tests. On good days these consisted of a sort of course or track that Dante had to fulfill. On bad days it consisted of him being restrained and attacked to test how his demonic body reacted, and how quickly it healed.

Needless to say, Dante would not take this lying down, and often tried to escape. Then the sprinklers of holy water would activate – these were assembled all over the place for security reasons.

His body would quickly heal from the water, but the pain was enough to make him cease whatever he was doing – be it running or fighting his restraints or captors – and eventually curl into a foetal position, waiting for it to stop. He tried devil-triggering, but that only increased his susceptibility to the holy water, worsening his situation.

When he was led from his cell to wherever he was required, Dante saw countless other cells with Guardian captives. They were not as tightly patrolled as his were, but the holy water kept them from escaping. One half-demon tries something unexpected and the entire facility douses itself in holy water, singing all non-humans inside. This meant that if any Guardian failed to follow routine or attempted escape, every single other half-demon would suffer.

Apart from ensuring that the escapee or badly-behaved half-demon could not escape, it also instilled a regard for other's safety in the half-devils. One false move and their friends and family suffered.

Lieutenant Killen once told Dante with a sinister grin that in physical tests, Guardians sometimes were forced to fight in a contained room. Sometimes to the death.

Earlier that day, Dante had been forced to battle a Guardian. They had each been given a short sword. The Guardian was a fairly young man around Dante's age – probably decidedly so to ensure a fair experiment – and he was most likely only an initiated Guardian since the outbreak of war.

Dante only went so far as to disarm him, then pin him down. He had been ordered to kill, but Dante refused.

The sprinklers went on, and both were returned to their cells.

Dante's body still hurt as he lay on the cold bed with no pillow or sheet.

He felt oddly naked in the white scrubs. They were thin, plain save for his identification number, and without warmth. Their only purpose was to identify him, which was rather pointless considering who he was – in the only cell with such high security.

He missed his red leather coat. It had been a sort of blanket to him throughout the years, providing comfort and a sense of home. It had been in his possession since his mother's death – for it was originally Eva's. It had been much too big for him in the beginning, and he had kept it to remind him of his mother and family. When the demons were coming, Eva had placed it around a crying Dante to help soothe him. Apart from the amulet it was his only memorabilia of a life he once knew, of a family he once had. Judging by the size it was probably too big for Eva also, since it fitted Dante as a grown man. Maybe it was Sparda's. Maybe Dante just told himself that for reassurance that he wasn't wearing a woman's coat.

Nevertheless, it was a part of him that he missed terribly, and he could not rest his mind without it. It was his comfort blanket, and it had been taken from him.

As had all of his possessions, including his and Vergil's amulet that Crìnge had thrown at him.

He was in a strange place, cold and hostile, without any solace or comfort.

Less hospitable was Lieutenant Killen, his self-described "owner". He was an incomprehensibly angry man, who showed nothing less than open disgust for Dante and his kind.

Killen was also a man who revered cleanliness, manners, and above all else authority; bureaucracy above practicality, discipline above obedience, rules above necessity for rules, rhythm above rhyme. He complimented his superiors, and scorned his subordinates. He held his code above his personality. A crucifix dangled around his neck, though this did not signify that he was Christian – it could merely relate to the fact that his superiors were.

He was a man who used the word 'proverbial' often, despite evidently not knowing what it meant. Then again, Dante did not know what 'proverbial' meant either, but at least he didn't pretend to.

He was institutionalised. His life was conforming to a timetable, yet one he did not know. He did not know the time. It was irrelevant. He had no need to know it – only the guards did. He could not escape. Countless fruitless attempts had taught him that. His only hope was that he somehow received outside help. Without it, Dante Sparda had no dream of escaping.

* * *

She was a strange one, the villagers all agreed. She appeared from the middle of the desert wearing what looked like prison clothes, without supplies of water, food, or a tent. Indeed, she had no shelter of any form on her person.

As if her striking appearance wasn't enough to attract attention. Flaming red hair, a Mediterranean or so tan...

However, the inhabitants of the small middle-of-nowhere town of Smithston were somehow grateful for her presence. Since her arrival, the demon attacks that "didn't exist" (according to the authorities, anyway) ceased. Although normally suspicious, xenophobic, and strictly God-fearing, the Smithstonians mutually agreed to regard the newcomer with mild warmth until proven that she required cold hostility.

She acquired herself a small job at the roadside diner, and secured a humbling home at the trailer park. She worked her hours at day and returned to her trailer after work, never seeming to go anywhere outside of the diner. She worked, she slept. Never socialised, never had outside business.

That was what the generally accepted story was, save for a disgruntled old neighbour of hers reporting that the newcomer tended to leave during the night, and that she strayed out into the bare desert alone. Of course, the poor old woman who reported this wasn't taken seriously, as she had a record of making up stories about newcomers she distrusted. Everybody knew that well – she was the oldest living citizen of Smithston, and to her, everybody was a newcomer. They all had rumours circulating about them thanks to her.

They knew her as Patricia. That's what her name-tag from the diner stated. Nobody really believed that was her name, but no questions were asked.

The stranger maintained a sensitive relationship with the people of Smithston. Neither felt comfortable with the other, each suspecting the other was a possible threat. For the time being, neither side chanced friendship nor hostility, keeping their distances, and any actual meetings were kept superficial.

So it was that Lucia assimilated into the society of Smithston, the closest town to the research facility. It was fairly impoverished, it's main business being with drivers along the desert road seeking gas, food, and maybe a place to stay for the night before passing on.

She kept a low profile, didn't talk to people, worked to pay for a place to sleep, and ventured back into the desert at night to observe the facility looking for some kind of way to help her kin.

So far, with little progress. It seemed to her that the security was airtight, but she persisted.

Lucia's life was her adopted family in the Guardians, and to her unrequited love, the son of Sparda. She had to find a way to free them all. She could not let herself live on without them.

Lucia willed herself on, day after day, holding tight onto hope. There was no feasible way that she could break everybody out unaided, and she knew it. But there was nothing else for her to do but try.

* * *

The Devil Hunters did manage to secure a large trawler to stow-away on.

The captain of the _Larsen_ was not the absolute leader of the vessel. He was employed by very wealthy and successful criminal. The trawler at face value was a huge ship that dealt in deep-sea fishing, but behind closed doors made business in drugs internationally.

When the Devil Hunters offered a business deal so that they could stow away on the floating behemoth, the captain made contact with his boss. The boss was _very_ interested in the small fleet of US military drop-ships that the Hunters hijacked. Negotiations did not take long.

Every hunter was assured a place on the _Larsen_, and the _HellBanes_ were taken off their hands. Subordinates of the boss' took possession of the choppers.

Underneath dark clouds and amidst a restless ocean, Vergil stared out from the deck. The captain had provided him with a waterproof jacket, which he wore with the hood up.

Vergil remained ever-wary. His last experience of the sea had not ended well, and he did not wish for a relapse of history.

But something else was bothering him. Dante had not been on any of the other choppers, and that meant he was either dead or the military had gotten him.

Vergil could quickly rule the former out.

The sullen son of Sparda could not imagine what his twin was going through. He had been at the demonic research facility where Dante was undoubtedly taken, and wondered what the scientists were putting him through. Unless the military had decided just to kill him and be done with it. Either could be likely.

The _Larsen_ would be stopping at some port in Spain to deal business, re-fuel, and then, as was agreed, they would then make the agonisingly-long trip to the U.S. Another reason to stop at Spain first – food, supplies, that sort of thing.

Vergil was the only person on deck. With it's on-board computer, the _Larsen_ pretty much ran itself. Besides, it was now pissing rain.

The weather little bothered Vergil. The fate of his brother did. He did not know what he would do, or how he would get there, but he knew he would find Dante, one way or other, whether he was dead or alive.

* * *

_Joe: I know that this seems like a very short chapter, but I can't really add more without setting the time forward a few weeks or so, and that would just ruin the chapter. Besides, this is about as long as the first chapter._

_One more thing: if you review, could you please help me out with something? You'll notice that I like to change the summary to this story. That's because I can't think of one that fits. I'm open to suggestions, so if you can think of a good one, please let me know. Thanks._

_Ciao._


	25. Exit David

o

_Disclaimer: Still don't own Devil May Cry, yadda yadda._

_Joe: Back at long last. My only defence is my obscene workload. To quote Gromit, I'm slowly realising that the term 'weekend' is nothing more than a cruel joke. So, if my free time isn't spent chilling in general, or going out, chances are I'm sick of writing and typing. Progress will be slower than usual. A LOT slower, you'll have noticed._

_Besides, some of the times when I decide to write, my time's devoted to fixing previous chapters (were they always that awful?)._

_Chapters 1 – 4 are now finished with the changes, and if you're interested, give them a read, if not, I'll fill you in on the important stuff; chapter three was known as "The Meeting", but since updating it I added a few paragraphs and just fixed bad jokes and gramatical errors in general. It's now "The Treaty of Washington", because I added another section to the 'meeting', where the world countries formed a temporary military alliance. Chapter four is now "Garm" - the boss' name, and the chapter's fixed in general, as is everything up to chapter four._

_Also - the e-mail's in full functioning order, so private messages or any review replies can be received._

_One last thing. I'm perfectly aware of what the DMC chronology actually is, and that the chronology in this fic is different, so please bear with me. It's all due to the fact that I started this before DMC4 arrived and screwed things up. I've also decided that since I'm acknowledging DMC4 as part of the chronology, this story will have some events that tie it up nicely so that DMC4 follows after it. I won't say how for the time being._

_Anyways – onto an actual new chapter._

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Tailor gulped down a glass of brandy sloppily, spilling some down his face. He slammed down the empty glass on the desk unnecessarily hard. A trembling hand reached over to a half-full bottle of brandy and refilled the glass with it's amber contents, which he proceeded to drink down in one gulp. He gave out a loud sigh of satisfaction, though his expression suggested otherwise.

"Shitbags..." Tailor growled menacingly to the empty room "What goddamn right do they have...my entire life...spat back in my face..."

He stood up suddenly, toppling his chair onto the ground with a clatter. Taking time to pour himself another glass of brandy, he began to stalk about the hotel suite, exhaling heavily.

"...and for what?" he interrogated the glass in his hand "...letting those two get away..."

Tailor let out a heavy sigh, then turned to the mirror at his desk. Shadows lay beneath his eyes, giving him the impression of a man twice his age. Stubble lined his face in heavier patches than usual, and although Tailor had long grown accustomed to it, the stench of sweat and dirt filled the suite. Tailor had not showered for days.

He was dressed in badly fitted civilian clothes, clothes evidently not worn in years. Ripped levi jeans, a simple plain dark green t-shirt, with a burly khaki and green camouflage jacket. Products of a bygone era, remnants of a bygone life. One that he was forced to restart. His clothes, even back in those days, were clear signs of what he aspired to. If an article of his clothing was not camouflage-patterned, it was plain.

Tailor decided he needed another drink.

"...it was either them or me..." he deduced slowly as he accidentally spilled some brandy whilst pouring it. He cursed, looked about for a cloth or something, then arrived at the conclusion that it wasn't worth the effort. "Great choice, there, Dave."

He raised his glass in lazy salute to his reflection, then downed it. His reflection sized him up with disdain as a small amount of spilled brandy dribbled down the size of his face again.

"Look at yourself. You're a mess, General Tailor," he criticized his somber reflection, then answered himself with a bark-like laugh "I beg your pardon, _ex-General_ Tailor!"

He continued laughing to himself, sinking back into the chair after clumsily replacing it on four legs. His laugh did not die down, although slowly, but surely, receded into bitter tears. He flung his glass away passionately. It collided against the wall and shattered into countless fragments.

Tailor was reduced to a sobbing heap, buried in his arms on the small mahogany desk.

He was staying in a fairly expensive hotel – a last gesture from the army he had served for the past years. It had a nice king-sized bed and furniture, as well as a desk with a mirror above it for some reason, and a small bookshelf of uninteresting novels. Beside Tailor's trembling form was a vase of flowers giving their best to use their fresh aroma to cover Tailor's less than fresh odour.

The reason for his current drinking binge was also on the desk beside him – a formal letter from the upper echelon of the military, informing him about the time and date of his court-martial. His relationship with the twins was not ignored, nor were his orders for anti-aircraft to let the hijacked _HellBane_ choppers escape unscathed.

The court-martial had already ended and left a broken Tailor behind. Tailor was only left with one more pre-paid night with the hotel, and what he did from there was his business.

"The bastards..." Tailor rasped, once again rising to his feet, albeit awkwardly, the alcohol dulling his nerves "...I never stood a chance...they had no right to ruin me..."

An altogether true statement. Even in his stupor, Tailor still saw the social injustice of it all. Dishonourably discharged for being accomplice to the escape of two 'frauds' wanted by his own government. The government wanted two men solely responsible for the defence force's survival thus far. And for helping them, General David Tailor was not only stripped of rank and office, but also of his life. He did the right thing and paid the price.

However, Tailor was not without means to life. His military salary – his officer's salary at that – had not been touched for the most part for the best of ten or so years. A General earns no modest amount of cash. Interest accumulated over the years sweetened the deal, but money was not part of Tailor's worries to begin with.

Tailor did not leave the hotel room all day, and remained in bed all through the night. He was graced with a hangover the following morning, but a room-service aspirin and a bottle of still water somewhat lessened it's effects.

He packed his bag (a depressingly short task) and checked out at eleven fifty-nine. He needed to check out at twelve o'clock. Military efficiency never leaves some people.

David stepped onto the footpath an unemployed man. He wore an olive-drab knit cap, a large green coat seemingly composed of pockets, and with fluff lining the hood. His trousers were khaki combats, and his boots were brown and neatly tied. Altogether dressed in woodland-camouflage, whether intentional or subconscious.

David let out a sigh, and watched his breath form a white haze before him. It was getting cold out. The footpath was covered with gold and brown leaves fallen from the trees, and more continued to fall. Even when he was checking out in the hotel foyer, the sound of people around him sniffing formed an unwitting rhythm.

Arriving at the bus stop, David realised that he was ten minutes early for the next bus. He stood still and waited. Ten minutes meant nothing anymore. Time now had no value for David, since there was nothing to be done with it. His financial status meant that he was in no hurry to secure a job anywhere. Come to think of it, if Tailor settled in a cheap enough home, he could afford to never work again.

The bus rolled in slowly and it's doors swung open. Pausing to allow a sour-faced lady enter in front of him, David slowly entered, paid the fare, and sat down by a window seat. He hadn't a clue where the bus was going. He didn't particularly care, either. There was no place he wished to go, just as there was no place where he was needed.

No place he was needed that he knew of.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

The _Larsen_ bobbed up and down rhythmically as it progressed. Having docked and departed from the Spanish port, the crew and stowaways were supplied sufficiently to last them as the sailed across the Pacific. The voyage would not take as long as they had anticipated – the distance from Europe to America had seemingly shrunk throughout the years. What had once been a matter of months at sea was now several days – maybe even a week or so.

However, conditions were not great. The drug-lord who owned the underground organisation which secretly owned the trawler was willing to pay for the state-of-the-art engine and propulsion systems, so as to speed up his 'transactions', but much of the rest of the equipment was long out of date, and the safety standards were appalling.

Pike in particular found the voyage on the sea taxing. He was often to be found on deck, bent over the railing, cursing loudly between throwing up. Anvil would be standing beside him, laughing and taunting, but her presence alone indicated that she was worried.

Trish thought the couple sweet, and often hung around them, but she was alone in that respect. Vergil grunted irritably and oh-so slightly raised his nose whenever they displayed their affection in any less than modest manner. Lady had similar opinions, which she outlined irritably to Enzo, on whom the joy of bunking with her was inflicted. The hunters, although old comrades and friends, were counting the days with rapidly decreasing patience – apart from Anvil, who loved the sea and was unaware of her friend's unease and disdain. She would later be the only hunter to look back on the voyage fondly. The tensions between them rose and fell with the ebb of the waves on which they sailed, but they endured nonetheless.

However, despite his lacking patience with his comrades, Vergil found a certain romance with the sea at night. The half-devil rarely slept, but spent his time gazing out at the horizon at night, admiring the glittering shine of the moon on the ripples, and reflecting, constantly reflecting, on what had occurred and what there still was to be done.

Vergil normally spent these hours in solitude, seeing as the ship's computer practically ran the _Larsen_ by itself. Nobody was really required out on deck at night, so Vergil sometimes took time to practice his new-found abilities.

This consisted of him seizing patches of water in his mind, making it soar up close to him, and his attempting to form crude shapes out of the water particles. The practice served him well – he recently composed a crystalline figure of a female form. Who it was meant to be was still a mystery, even to himself.

Dante was a large factor of worry in his mind. Vergil knew that Dante had been captured, yet he knew that he would not harm humans so as to escape. He also doubted very much that the humans would play nice having captured him. Back when the first live demons had been captured, immediately the notion of analysing them sprung to the humans minds. It was beyond doubt that they would do so again with the half-devil. The previous batch of demons had died, either as a result of the extent of the analysis, or due to their attempts to escape. Vergil did not know whether Dante realised this or not, but in either case there would be two eventualities;

Dante would realise that the scrutinising tests would slowly lead to his death – either after the humans accidentally or not went too far, or if they were testing some form of weapon effective against demons.

Having realised this, he will either accept his fate and allow himself to be slowly murdered, or try to escape – and be murdered.

A true-to-life Catch-22, that would only be broken if Dante was helped externally.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

David's chest rose and fell rhythmically as he slept, his face set against the bus window. He occupied a seat by himself, his bag set on the adjacent seat.

Few people occupied the long-distance bus, and those that were kept to themselves. Some were old and either travelling to or returning from visiting their indifferent children and grandchildren, others were weathered-looking middle-aged people in well-worn coats tending to their own unspoken business.

The landscape was becoming increasingly barren as tufts of grass become less frequent and rocks took their place. The last tree had been spotted about an hour ago.

The cold intensified as darkness swept across the sky, and David started shivering in his sleep.

An abrupt jolt of the bus resulted in David banging his head against the window. His sudden awakening made David immediately alert. The bus had just driver over a speed-bump, or had run over some person or large animal.

It appeared to be the latter, as the bus driver had broken to a halt, and had opened the door to investigate.

David surveyed the other occupants of the bus. Some looked irritated, others wary.

Grumbling, the bus driver flicked a torch on and stepped outside.

"Hello?" they could hear him announce "S'there anybody there?"

The bus passengers could not hear what the response was, but they heard a shocked "Oh!" from the bud river, quickly followed by a bloodcurdling scream which was cut short by a gargling sound.

There was a small silence amongst the passengers, only broken by an old lady began muttering prayers on behalf of the driver.

David slowly realised that he was the only young man there. If anybody would be expected to investigate into what happened, it would be him. This in turn led to the sinking realisation that he had no weapon on his person anymore. He cursed to himself, wondering how he could have been so foolish – weaponless in these times.

Others were starting to look at him expectantly. Tailor took in a calming deep breath, then rose to leave.

The other passengers watched him silently as he left. The old lady was still praying.

David stepped off the bus and suppressed a gasp the moment he did so. The torch was on the ground, a beam of light aiming towards the driver who had dropped it, but everything else was dark.

The driver was soaking in a pool of his own, crimson blood, his glasses fractured and bent, his eyes open yet sightless. Of his rigid form the torch only revealed the face, but apart from the still eyes there was no explanation for the pool of blood.

David cautiously approached the driver's still form. As he did so, he could slowly make out the source of the blood. David retched audibly upon doing so, but contained himself.

A wide hole tore through the man's chest, and David could see clean through to the tarmac beneath. The blood flow was slowly stopping. There was no sign of the section that had been torn out of the man's abdomen.

A loud hiss made David look sharply up. His breath caught in his throat as he identified numerous pairs of red eyes in the darkness, yet in the shadows they appeared to be independent of any body.

Taking slow steps backwards, David knew that it was only a matter of time until it was his turn to join the bus driver.

As he retreated, one of the forms approached. It stepped into the beam of light originating from the torch, yet it seemed that it was bringing the darkness with it.

The darkness had formulated into the likeness of some sort of wildcat. It was difficult to tell whether the dark substance was gas or liquid, but it was constantly flowing, but retaining the overall form of the cat, but for the eyes and the sabre teeth, where the blackness was accompanied by blood-red.

David felt his heart beat uncomfortably against his ribcage as he considered running for it, but wondering if the sudden movement would result in a quicker death.

The shadow's front section shifted shape into a narrow, spear like shape. Reacting quickly, David dove to the side as the shadow thrust itself forward. Upon landing, David quickly rolled over to see how it's enemy reacted. The shadow kept in it's spear-like state for a small moment, and David guessed that it was in this manner that it killed the bus driver.

A low rumble indicated that a vehicle was approaching on the road, but it seemed that it was too far away to do any good.

David got to his feet and ran before the shadow regained it's usual form. He fled from the monsters and the bus, knowing that if he didn't he would die just like everybody else.

The loud sound of shattering glass let him know that the things were tearing into the bus, and was confirmed by the much louder sound of screaming.

David halted, and it seemed that he was not being followed; the things were directing their full attention on the bus. His mind was raging as he considered returning to attempt to save the passengers, but figured he didn't stand a chance. It also crossed his mind that since he was out on a desert road and miles away from civilisation, it was likely that demons would kill him before he arrived anywhere at any rate.

The soldier in him decided that since he was going to die anyway, he should die protecting civilians.

He turned again and sprinted towards the bus, though he did not know what he would do when he arrived.

No demons were outside; the entire pack had entered the bus. Without stopping to think, David leaped up the steps into the carriage, where yet another gruesome sight awaited him.

He had arrived just in time to witness the beasts slaughtering the last passenger; the old lady, who was trembling and clutching onto her rosary beads, her mouth constantly moving as she mumbled prayers so quickly she lost coherence. The shadow that had been approaching her slowly to this point assimilated an entirely different form, to become entirely a great jaw which snapped down on the helpless woman. She died before even a scream escaped her mouth.

As this happened the other shadows became aware of David's presence. The beasts were now more terrifying than ever, much of the blood they had spilled had mixed with the darkness circulating their form, making blotches of red flow around their forms in shapeless patterns.

David was rooted to the spot for a small moment where the pack slowly approached.

Once again, instinct drove him and he bounded out of the bus, but not before a shadow speared into him, catching the back of his leg.

David gave a strangled roar of agony and he fell down the steps as opposed to jumping down them. He collided roughly with the road, knocking his head.

The world became one large incomprehensible haze, but David could vaguely identify a shadow making it's way down the steps of the bus, hissing with what seemed to be amusement.

A dazzling light emanated from his left; the oncoming vehicle. The shadow abruptly halted and spasmed to face the source of the light, as if it had been struck.

The blurriness intensified, and sounds grew dull. David felt his head throb as though it were itself a heart. The last sounds that David could comprehend before blacking out were of many people yelling and gunfire.

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_Joe: That's it for the time being. I can't make any promises as to when the next chapter will be posted, but fingers crossed that it'll take less time than this one did._

_Any recommendations for the story synopsis would be greatly appreciated, if anybody would like to make any suggestions. Please review in and give your opinion, anybody reading this, anonymous reviewers included._

_Just to remind you that my e-mail system's co-operating again, so let loose with any messages._

_Thanks for the support up until now, and be on the lookout for any previous chapters being revamped._

_Ciao._


	26. Casey's Heroes

_Disclaimer: Surprisingly, I now own Devil May Cry. Who'd have thunk. Wait...that was a typo. I own **a** devil may cry. Four of them, in fact. Don't own any of the characters or names or any of that jazz._

_Joe: Sorry about the last chapter being fairly short, but then again, I updated much sooner than usual. Wasn't exactly hard, I know, but it's still sooner than normal._

_I haven't updated any previous chapters recently, so straight onto business;_

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Lieutenant Killen fondled the rosary beads wrapped around his wrist as he murmured the associated hymns, proceeding to the next bead after each hymn in the customary fashion.

The lieutenant lay on two legs of his chair, the back of which was leaning against the wall adjacent to Dante's cell. His eyes were closed and his face was a picture of comfort as he muttered the rosary. A small square table lay beside him, on which a platter was neatly placed, with a jug of water and a glass, alongside what looked to be a large tube of toothpaste.

_Thunk_.

The hollow sound of steel striking steel made Killen abruptly adopt a grimace and halt his prayers, as though he himself had been struck. He regained his previous serene expression and continued the rosary, accentuating each and every word pointedly.

_Thunk._

This time Killen seemed not to hear it though he raised his voice.

_THUNK._

Killen's face stretched into a grimace, his teeth bared. He ceased his actions, and threw the beads on the table heatedly. Standing up, Killen turned and pressed his finger on a large white button on a control panel beside Dante's cell door.

"What do you want?" Killen snapped, with no attempts to hide his irritation.

Inside, Dante placed the small chair down. Recently, the converted army base had relented and provided basic furniture for the half-devils' cells. This meant that Dante and the Guardians received a small table, a chair, and a bookcase. Though, Killen oversaw what came in and out of Dante's cell, and thus there was certain censorship on the books that went into Dante's cell. Thus far, the only piece of literature that made it through Killen's censoring was the Bible.

Dante strolled over to the intercom by the door.

"My dinner is what I want. It normally arrives at five-thirty. It's five-forty five now."

"Ah, yes," Killen remarked, as though realising he had missed a vaguely entertaining television programme. He glanced to his side momentarily, where the jug of water and the tube of paste stood on the platter. "Well, since you've been a bad boy, it's only fitting you get punished..."

"You can't do that," Dante stated cynically "The scientists upstairs would be pissed if they didn't give me today's poison – or whatever they've cooked up."

Killen let out a small chuckle that was obviously forced.

"I can do what I want. I'm your keeper, boy. Besides, one day's calculations won't throw them off too much – remember, you're going to be here for a very long time."

Dante had no response. The son of Sparda stared at the intercom reproachfully for a small moment.

"That's right. There's nothing you can do about it," Killen taunted, evidently enjoying himself "Just remember – don't you ever dare interrupt me when I'm doing something important."

"What _were_ you doing?" Dante inquired, then added with a smirk "Jacking off?"

Dante knew retribution would come the moment the words left his mouth. But he would never accept Killen's authority over him.

"Do you want me to turn on the sprinklers?" retorted Killen menacingly, moving his hand to press a button on the control panel, but refraining from actually pushing it.

Letting out a weary sigh, Dante leaned himself against the wall.

"No. I'm sorry." he said monotonously.

"I would certainly say so. But not sorry enough," Killen answered coldly "Don't expect any breakfast tomorrow."

Despite his previous submission, Dante flared up again.

"You bastard! You can't -" he cut himself short.

"Yes?" Killen pressed, his finger hovering over the sprinkler button.

Dante let out a calming deep breath, and counted to twenty. He was getting sick of this.

"You know what you remind me of, Killen?" Dante said tiredly "You know those teenagers at the movie theatres that delight in using whatever little power they have? That's what you are – the teenager at the movie theatre, the meter maid with his parking tickets, the mall security officer. And you made it to Lieutenant somehow. It escapes me."

The intercom went silent for a while, and Dante began to wonder if he went too far. Part of him stopped caring.

His response was the sudden activation of the holy water sprinklers. Dante couldn't contain a howl of agony as he slowly bent over onto the ground in a foetal position, his hands placed over his face to protect his eyes.

The intercom crackled back into life.

"We'll have less of that from now on, too. Just to mark the occasion, count yourself lucky if you get any food at all tomorrow."

The sprinklers had already ceased, but Dante lay trembling on the floor, his skin singed red.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The world was a painful blur of white. David immediately regretted opening his eyes but rectified his mistake by shutting them as tight as he could. He raised his hand feebly to his aching head, which felt like it was pulsating. He noticed that there was a bandage of sorts wrapped around it.

A pitiful groan escaped his lips as he reopened his eyes, trying to decipher his whereabouts. His groan grabbed the attention of a nearby silhouette, who came quickly into focus as it approached.

It was a woman in a black padded uniform, but with a white patch and a red cross on her arm.

Her cold, soft touch felt soothing against David's forehead, and whatever she deduced from his forehead seemed to satisfy her.

"Hah," she gave a small laugh, then called out "I told you this one's not dead! Whoever it was - Burke, pay up!"

She was answered by a disgruntled retort amidst a chorus of laughter. David groaned as his head seared with pain.

"Shh!" the medic announced sternly to her comrades, a finger at her lips. Her friends hushed without further order.

David's eyesight slowly corrected itself, and he could make out the woman. She had shoulder-length auburn hair that was in disorder, giving her a tired appearance. Her green eyes were still analysing David's head, and he could make out a cluster of freckles around her nose.

"You're a lucky one," she stated as her hand reached out to remove the bandage around David's head.

Finally alert, David looked around cautiously. The sun blazed brightly above, made increasingly clear by the absence of wind. He noticed that they were still at the desert road where he had been attacked; the wreckage of the bus was nearby, bloodstained bodies piled up beside it by the men and women in black combat gear.

"No permanent damage," concluded the medic as she began to wrap the bandage around David's head again "Just a bad knock to the noggin. You'll be fine soon enough."

She gave him two soft slaps to the cheek in succession. "Come on, up you get. A big strong guy like you doesn't need a doctor doting over him."

"Who are you?" David finally managed. His voice wasn't hoarse – he was better off than he originally anticipated.

"Yeah, you're welcome...Dr. Anne Casey. Squad medic, ADP, at your service."

David heaved himself up with a grunt.

"I'm sorry, I just – thank you."

"You're welcome," repeated Doctor Casey, this time meaning it "No bother. It's good we saved anyone at all."

"Then everybody else is -" David began apprehensively.

"They've gone bye bye. Never had a chance," Doctor Casey confirmed, though not seeming remotely conflicted. "Shadows don't play around. I'm surprised you're alive at all. But then again -"

She held up David's dog-tags which she had obviously removed.

"You at least seem to know how to handle yourself, David Tailor. But you're one of the few idiots left who aren't packing heat in these times."

David stood up slowly and dusted his t-shirt. Doc Casey flung his dog-tag back, which he caught in one hand.

"I just got booted out of the army. Cut a guy some slack," he answered with a grim smile.

Doc Casey raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't think they'd spare any soldiers anymore. They're drafting boys in like there's no tomorrow."

"Yeah, well," David said quietly, looking away "I guess they didn't want to send a guy of my rank and history to the firing squad – and they seemed to think that a slap on the wrist wasn't good enough"

"Is that so, Mr. High-and-Mighty?" Doc Casey laughed "Be mysterious if you want. What did you do, anyway?"

"I..." David started, then faded off. He remained silent for a while.

"Whatever. You don't have to tell me everything. You don't even know me," Doc Casey commented, packing away some medical equipment into a rucksack, then turned to one of her nearby comrades "Hey, Burke, you holding out on me or what?"

A bald african-american soldier with a cigarette grumbled as he reached into one of his numerous pockets and excavated a ten-dollar note, which he thrust into Doc Casey's outstretched hand.

Doc Casey stretched out the dollar, squinted at it while holding it up against the sun, then smelled it to irritate Burke before depositing it in her shirt. She hummed a tune as she seated herself in the armoured vehicle. Burke turned to David.

"You owe me ten dollars. I was going to call home, but now I've spent the last of my change," he remarked bitterly. His voice was higher than David expected.

"You're right, I'm so sorry. Next time I'll be more thoughtful and get killed," David replied coldly.

Burke laughed loudly.

"I like this guy!" he told a wild-haired, heavily bearded soldier beside him. The soldier, who had previously been following Doc Casey's ass' progress into the armoured vehicle, returned to earth with a crash.

"What?"

Burke shook his head slowly as he spat his cigarette on the sand and trampled it.

"No, really, what?" the other soldier persisted in a curious voice. He then noticed David and jumped.

"Hey, Burke! Some guy with a turban just showed up!" he announced to Burke, his hand hovering over a holster to his side.

"That's a bandage, you racist asshole. Go back to sleep," Burke waved it off. The bearded soldier gave a sigh of relief, yet looked slightly disappointed. Burke noticed David raise his eyebrows.

"This is Chris. Poor guy got a nut knocked loose by some devil-worshipper with a sledgehammer about a month ago." he explained tiredly to David, who nodded.

Chris smiled at this, exposing a discoloured set of teeth with a large gap where David assumed the sledgehammer had left it's mark.

"Who are you guys?" David inquired finally.

"ADP," Burke answered in a professional voice"That's the Anti-Demon Patrol. There's squads like us all over the country – and all around the world. We've been around since the Treaty of Washington."

Burke gestured towards a crest on his combat armour. It consisted of a shield displaying a section of the American flag.

"We're like the police – only better equipped. It's our job the make sure nobody in our area gets slaughtered by demons."

"I see," David stated, suddenly remembering hearing about them.

"Very much like a military squad," David pointed out "You've got decent equipment – and a squad medic."

"We're one of the lucky ones," Burke stated "One out of two squads get a medic – or a chaplain. I'm telling you, if it weren't for Doc Casey, I wouldn't be the handsome piece of man you see here."

David smiled appreciatively, but Chris snorted derisively.

"I don't think Doc Casey thinks the same."

Burke shot him a warning glare, and Chris deflated.

"So you and Doc..." David began, but Burke shook his head.

"Shot me down in a heartbeat," he answered sadly, but then gave a brave smile as he added "Still did better than Chris. Thing is, this jackass here won't take no for an answer. Not all of his missing teeth were knocked out with a sledgehammer..."

"Aww, d'you _have_ to tell everybody that?" Chris moaned, rubbing his chin as though the memories were real "But, still. I'd much rather a frigid Doc than some goddamn Chaplain prayin' over my cold dead body. Hey, I love Jesus as much as the next guy, but it's no accident that medic-assisted squads have a lower death rate."

"I can imagine," David said, nodding "But surely command would have noticed. Why do Chaplains get sent to every second squad or so?"

"Since it's clear that demons exist, the whole country's gone God-fearing again," Burke replied "Chaplains have their own uses – word is, Holy Water actually _does_ damage demons pretty bad. But sizzling demons won't heal a deep wound like a Doctor's help can."

David noticed that there were only two armoured vehicles, then asked "So there's only three to a squad?"

"Four," Burke replied, nodding to the front seat of the nearest armoured vehicle.

A lady with sunglasses was sitting sideways on the seat so as to get some fresh air, the door ajar. Her head was covered with a green knit cap. She was staring at David, and judging by her expression she was unimpressed.

"I'm fairly sure that she was in the betting pool as well," Burke explained with a smirk "You may have disappointed her. Not a very chatty chick, you'll notice. She normally leaves the talking to the rest of us."

The lady raised her middle finger in response, then sat back into the vehicle and closed the door.

"What's her name?" David asked interestedly.

"Karin. Not that it matters, she rarely talks to anyone except Doc Casey." Chris piped in cheerfully "Lord knows I've tried. She's not interested. There's another betting pool going round that she...you know, swings the other way..."

Burke shot Chris a filthy look.

"Just 'cos she's not interested in _you_ doesn't mean she doesn't like men. It means she's got the slightest bit of standards." he said coolly "And it was _you_ that started that betting pole to save your own goddamn self-esteem."

Chris recoiled and walked off wordlessly to admire the weather by himself.

"Whatever the case is, I think she has my hat," David remarked.

"Oh, yeah. She'll do that," chuckled Burke "She bet a bunch that you weren't gonna make it. This is probably her way of evening things out."

"But...my hat," David mumbled as Burke noticed Doc Casey gesturing for him to talk to her.

David looked around as the two conversed in whispers. The four ADP soldiers in the second military vehicle were ready to go, and even seemed bored waiting. It looked like a variation on the Hum-V design – it seemed thicker and heavier, which meant it was more durable, but looked like a bitch to drive. The design maintained the mounted gun at the top.

"David," he heard Doc Casey say behind him. He turned round to see everybody else strapped in the Hum-V. "We can't just leave you here, but we have to return back. So what we're going to do is leave you at the nearest town – a little place called Smithston. You should be able to arrange further transport, or whatever, there."

"Excellent. Thank you," David said sincerely.

Her mouth curved a little to indicate 'you're welcome'.

David took a seat between Burke and Chris; Doc Casey sat in the front with Karin driving. As they started moving David noticed that their weaponry was military-issue: the standard '_M666_' – that is, the M16-A6 designed for the war, with the Beretta 9mm as a side-arm. They all also had a long combat knife holstered at their sides – another new addition.

"You guys get all the good toys, huh?" David commented.

Chris gave his wide smile.

"Yup! The government takes this ADP stuff real seriously. We get better equipment than the feds."

"But for how long we get this special treatment is a good question," Doc Casey said grimly "With Larimore having won the election and all"

"_What?!_" David shouted in horror. Chris, however, gave a loud whoop of joy.

"S'bout time the demmies got outta office! A good republican prez is just what we need right now!"

"Don't be an idiot," countered Burke in his usual fashion "This isn't about petty inter-party squabbles. Larimore doesn't believe in demons for some unknown reason, and what's worse, the majority of the country seem to agree with him – don't ask me how."

"That's what I can't for the life of me figure out," Doc Casey agreed "ADP reports say that we're up to our necks in demonic activity all over the country. How on _earth_ anybody anywhere on American soil doesn't believe in demons..."

Karin snorted and spat out the window to articulate her opinion. Looking out through Burke's window, David noticed a large tower of criss-crossing steel out in the desert. An oil tower, although there did not appear to be anybody in it's vicinity.

"Ran dry long ago," Burke said "But nobody bothered removing it."

David had a vague recollection of seeing an oil rig out in the middle of the desert, but from where he was unsure.

"That's Smithston there," Doc Casey announced, pointing ahead where, sure enough, a small cluster of buildings drew near "We'll leave you at the town hall, then we'll head off."

"Thanks," David said for the umpteenth time since he woke.

As Smithston approached, David realised what kind of town it was. The only notable buildings he could make out was a run-down town hall, a small drug-store, a diner, a gas station, and a trailer park.

The ADP dropped him off and bade him farewell. David waved goodbye once after thanking them one last time, then looked around the sun-baked town. The relentless heat of the sun seemed the only good thing about it, and even that would become a nuisance after a while.

David figured that the diner would be the best place to ask around for information on a place to stay, or even a lift. He had no reason to hang around – but then again, he had no reason to leave. With a weary sigh, David headed for the diner in any case.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Of the tests Dante was forced to undergo, the worst type was the painful and often cruel biological 'examination'. These tests were designed to push the demonic body to the limit in order to determine it's absolute physical capacity. Other times they tied in with nutritional tests and the tests deciphering the chemical build-up of the half-devils body. That meant that the biological tests could be a form of obstacle course, test of perception (sight, hearing etc.), or even administering various chemicals into the half-devil's body to discover the various effects, or any possible weaknesses. Sometimes they took blood samples or other DNA samples without explaining why.

However, seeing as Professor Gray (still wearing a large cast around his neck) was head of the biological department, the scientists tried their best to ensure they didn't go overboard on Dante – so long as Gray was around. Sometimes Dante learned a lot from these tests. The most recent of these involved Dante being plunged underwater to determine how long half-devils could hold their breathe. As Dante already knew that he did not need to hold his breath, he just laid back and enjoyed the rather comfortable test. The scientific explanation, which Dante had not previously known, was provided afterwards; the half-devils respiratory systems differ from humans; they use oxygen (O) particles, as opposed to diatomic oxygen molecules (O2), to respire. This meant that regular air was twice as beneficial (also improving their physical combat efficiency), but also was contributed to the amphibious capabilities of their lungs. The lungs seemed to take the oxygen from water molecules and breathe out hydrogen gas, allowing them to successfully breathe underwater, although they would feel light-headed if left underwater for too long, as if they were breathing at a high altitude.

By far Dante's favourite test was the psychological analysis he got around once or twice a week. This involved him having a one-on-one meeting with a shrink – without Killen breathing down his neck.

Normally, the shrink would be one Dr. Sarah Philips. Dante delighted in wasting her time and flirting shamelessly, making the meeting the highlight of his week. This week, however, Dr. Philips was 'indisposed', leaving Dr. Glen Ling in her place. A man in his mid-fifties, Dante would not have quite the same fun with him, but as the meeting was a psychiatric counseling, Dr. Ling would still be civil and attentive, which was more than other scientists and doctors Dante had the pleasure of dealing with.

The room in which the meeting took place was very much like the clichè shrinks office; mahogany panelled, window view, with a brown leather couch beside a similar armchair.

Dante lay on the couch facing the ceiling with Dr. Ling on the armchair, leaning towards him.

"Dr. Philips tells me that you were orphaned at a young age," Dr. Ling began bluntly.

"So much for doctor-patient confidentiality..." Dante replied, bemused.

"I'm afraid you're entitled to very little privacy in this place," Dr. Ling reflected sadly "The Colonel in charge of the facility relented in barring any cameras for these meetings, but I'm still expected to give a full report afterwards."

"Then why should I say anything?" Dante asked bitterly.

"I said I'm expected to report everything. I never said I will," Dr. Ling stated "Dr. Philips may not be bothered, but I still consider it immoral to break my oath, against anybody. Many scientists and officers in this facility may not tell the difference, but you're definitely not like those demons that are slaughtering women and children all over the country."

Dante sat up and looked Dr. Ling in the eyes.

"That means a lot, doc," he said sincerely, then added "You mean, Doc sweet-cheeks reported everything I said?"

"Dr. Philips reported enough for me to know that 'sweet-cheeks' refers to her. I do hope you're not going to talk to me in a similar manner," joked Dr. Ling, keeping a serious expression.

Dante laughed a little.

"I don't intend to...so, you know pretty much everything I told doc sweet-cheeks. I don't think there's really anything left to be said"

"I'm not inclined to agree. It seems to be that you have terribly unhealthy lifestyle in terms of your mental health," Dr. Long criticised sternly "All of these family issues, this grief, dead parents you never mourned...I'm shocked you never had counseling before."

Dante shrugged it off.

"Never needed it. I got my problems, yeah, but so does everybody."

"That's exactly the attitude that leads to mental disorders," Dr. Ling said "The fact that other people may have problems does not negate the fact that you have yours. Now, I'm sure somebody as lively as yourself would have immense problems with being caged and tested."

"Well, wouldn't anybody?" Dante said; more statement than question "I suppose it just angers me more so because...well..."

"Please, do go on," Dr. Ling encouraged.

"I can't." Dante stated simply.

"Why do you feel so?" Dr. Ling queried interestedly.

"I just..._can't_. It's not something...I should be feeling. It's not something I want to encourage."

"Our goal here is not to encourage, but to identify any issues," Dr. Ling promised kindly "Please, elaborate."

Dante took in a breath and froze, staring at his feet. He began to speak, but remained facing his feet.

"It's just...a feeling, a notion that I know is...is stupid, but I can't stop it. To start off...well...I've spent my life protecting people from what I partly am; it's what I'm good at, and as your friends the scientists can tell you, it's what I'm made for. I risk my neck day in, day out. But as soon as humankind gets a hold of me, they throw me in a cell and call me an evil freak that should never have existed..."

Dr. Ling remained silent, his hand to his chin. Dante continued in a dull monotone.

"My brother...my brother used to always say that humans weren't worth the effort. Back in...the days with Mom, the other kids always avoided us, whispering names behind our back. We were different, we knew, and thanks to Father we knew how. I never let it get to me. I had Vergil. But recently I've...I've started to see what he meant. Help them out and they don't stop hating you."

Dante slowly looked up. Dr. Ling noticed that his face was pale.

"Mom used to always teach us the exact opposite. To love and help others, all that kind of stuff...it all only really sank in when I was around nineteen years old, when I met up with Vergil again. I really believed it. It's amazing how these things seem so true and right, even though the truth's being beaten into you the whole time, but you ignore it because you don't like it. Well-"

He rose his hands and gestured around himself.

"-here I am. I don't like it, but it's still true. I can close my eyes and pretend I'm somewhere else all I want but it doesn't change the fact that I'm here. Do you know what I mean? I wouldn't say so..."

Dr. Ling maintained his silence for a while, but he was frowning, thinking.

"...You kept yourself together throughout the years with a firmly built set of beliefs, that much is clear," the doctor stated "And now you feel that -"

"This whole situation is a punch in the nuts for me." Dante concluded.

"Not the way I would have phrased it, but..." Dr. Ling mumbled "...essentially, yes. From what I've heard, it certainly seems that way. Your job satisfaction was due to these ideals: that you were doing what is right, and your resilience in life derived from this. What you're going to do now is a good question."

Dante laughed loudly in response, but his laugh was hollow.

"What I'm going to do now? What I'm going to do is what you guys make me do until either I rot or you throw away what's left of me when you're all done anyway. Either way it's fine with me."

There was silence between the two for a long pause. The silence was broken by a series of knocks on the door.

"That'll be Killen," Dante said quietly as he rose "It's been a pleasure talking to you, Doctor Ling."

"Likewise," Dr. Ling answered gravely as the half-devil exited.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Joe: I'd better stop this chapter here, as I don't want to go too far ahead in one chapter._

_I also want to thank everybody for their support thus far (and keep it coming!), seeing as I haven't sent any review replied in a long time._

_My request for the synopsis remains if anybody gets any bright ideas._

_Ciao._


	27. Crossing the Line

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, Capcom does...for now._

_Joe: This chapter took much longer than expected; it seems that the plot I've laid out takes less time to write in my head. Also, it's fairly long, if that justifies that time it took to post it._

_Huge thanks to everybody who reviewed – really, give yourselves a cold one on me. Just as soon as you discover my bank account details. Honestly though, you guys are life savers._

_Right - enjoy._

_

* * *

_

It was strange that a creature could seem so cunning in battle yet fail to display even the slightest sign of intelligence elsewhere. The perceptiveness and agility of a savage demon while fighting was unrivalled, yet their minds seemed unable to grasp certain basic concepts.

Vergil's expression was that of interest as he pondered this great mystery, yet not of any remote surprise as he keenly surveyed a pack of lesser demons from a nearby rooftop. His form lay obscure beneath the darkness of night, as the moon had disappeared behind a thick sheet of black storm clouds. The same clouds that had covered the sky for the past fortnight, and most likely would remain for a long time until the ordeal was over.

The demons below were unaware of his presence, and indeed were unaware of far more than just Vergil. The half-devil's face was periodically illuminated by an orange light accompanied by a thunderous boom that shook the city street.

The assortment of hell lusts and nobodies evidently sensed that they were near a large settlement of humans, yet were oblivious to the more pressing fact that their numbers were rapidly decreasing as they stalked along.

What the demons did not know was that the humans they sensed were ADP, and were more than prepared to vanquish their entire group. However, their current concern should have been that they were marching through a street rigged with landmines.

As one would unwittingly trod on a claymore, it's final shriek of agony would be lost on the ears of it's brethren as they continued on. Several were not immediately killed and limped on regardless of their newly sported injuries, seemingly unaware that they had been brutally maimed.

At the end of the street was a tall building, with a plaza complete with a fountain at the entrance. Sandbags, cinder blocks and sheets of steel were arrayed to compose temporary pillbox bunkers at fixed junctions on the plaza, and also on either side of the building's entrance. Curled barbed wire was tightened around seven-foot tall iron poles so as to compose a perimeter, and also an outside corridor joining the bunkers and the large building.

Vergil could not see any humans in the general vicinity, but it was beyond doubt that they were secure in the bunkers below.

By the time the pack of demons arrived within a few feet of the nearest bunkers, they were a sorry sight. Mishappen nobodies dragged themselves wearily onwards, frequently howling out pitifully, alongside the remaining Hell lusts that had not dematerialised into sand.

"_Fire!_" a male voice commanded loudly.

The outermost bunkers were illuminated by the fire from their own mounted machine-guns. Just as the demons let out roars of glee, they were decimated swiftly. It was over within a matter of seconds. The corpse of the last nobody violently blew apart in an almost resolute manner. What might have been an assault on the building had been put down before the demons even reached the settlement.

Vergil could hear breathing nearby, yet remained rigid, not moving a muscle. The breathing was calm, yet forcedly so. Had Vergil been human he would have been unable to detect the sound of a pair of boots stealthily approaching. As the form approached, Vergil could sense the breathing pattern becoming more and more forced,

With a metalic scraping noise, Yamato found itself beneath the chin of the human before it could gasp.

"You should know better," Vergil criticised the human coolly as he turned around to inspect his guest. "Sneaking up on anything on a rooftop in these times."

The human was a tall man dressed entirely in black combat gear, complete with headgear. His face was completely obscure beneath his gear, and his eyes were covered by a set of night-vision goggles. There was a small clatter as he dropped a silenced glock. Besides the handgun, Vergil noticed a combat knife holstered by his side, and several strange looking grenades strapped along his torso which had corresponding straps to do so.

The man shivered a little as the glock levitated into the air as though it were tied to string. It disassembled itself slowly, then the pieces fell to the ground.

"Weapons drawn? You meant to shoot me in the back of the head?" Vergil commented vaguely "That would have been rather ignorant of you. I would have been obliged to kill you."

The man grunted, perhaps out of irritation or disgust.

"Now, just who are you?" Vergil asked "I'm guessing you aren't military. You wouldn't have survived basic training."

"ADP," the man spat, rather confidently considering his circumstance "And don't talk to me like that. It's our job to make sure people like you don't become lunch. Don't think you're so stealthy yourself. I'm only here because we knew you were here in the first place. This is our neighbourhood, after all."

Vergil considered the man, and slowly replaced Yamato into it's sheath. If the man had been trying to kill Vergil, he would have been a lot more frightened by being caught in the act. Besides, if the man considered it his job to protect the likes of Vergil, it would hardly be fitting for him to kill him.

"Then what are you doing here?" Vergil queried as he stood up to his full height.

"I was sent out to figure out what the hell you were doing out here at night," the man replied, unshaken "Either you were some kind of hostile demon – and I terminate you – or you were a civilian who was too nosy for his own good. You look like you could be either, so now it's my turn to start asking questions."

Vergil could almost have smiled. The man reminded him of many devil hunters he had encountered.

"You wanna tell me what the hell you're doing out here? I can see you can handle yourself, but don't think I don't recognise who you are," the man shot at Vergil darkly "You have some arrogance – or stupidity - to come round here, scum. You and your kind are wanted right across the country."

Vergil narrowed his eyes at the man, and adjusted his spiked hair needlessly. His other hand fondled the sheath of Yamato. Yet his voice remained calm and collected as he answered.

"_My kind_ have been gone for a few weeks and you and your pathetic friends have managed to allow the city to fall to ruins in the meantime," Vergil remarked "And the moment I return you treat me like this. You have a surprising amount of gall, considering you have just been caught attempting to sneak up on me."

"Hah." the man laughed hollowly "HQ picked up some sort of electronic bug on you – that's how we knew you were here, and we now have it filed. If I were to die, you'd be dead meat pretty soon too. And we don't need that."

A grimace spread across Vergil's features. The man was right, and he knew it.

"Fine. You know I'm here. I know about your people here now. And I'm not about to do any harm, so we can leave it at that," Vergil compromised reasonably " -but!-"

Vergil unsheathed Yamato once again and placed it under the man's chin a second time in one fluid, rapid motion.

" - if you or your friends act so callously to me again, or even _think_ of detaining me, it will _not_ go well for you, or any other moron in the vicinity."

Vergil added emphasis on the last sentence, and the man did not doubt that Vergil meant his words – whether or not he did.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting howl of rage came from behind the ADP soldier. The soldier spun round and let out an unwitting gasp before stumbling backwards as a hell sloth rose it's scythe high before attempting to sink it into the man's skull.

The scythe stopped mid-swing, before it wrested itself from the demons grip and forcing itself down the sloth's throat – the ironic weak spot, Vergil knew.

As the demon disintegrated into sand, Vergil glared at the ADP soldier.

"Had you not distracted me you would not have almost been killed," Vergil stated irritably.

"I – ah...thanks," the man mumbled with diluted gratefulness.

"Now get out of here before you make a more successful attempt to get yourself killed," Vergil commanded, pointing towards the large bunkered building, presumably the New York headquarters of the ADP.

"But my gun -" the man began.

" - stays where it is. Think of it as motivation to hurry. Go!" Vergil barked. Raising his voice had a successful effect – the man turned tail and made his way back.

Despite having coldly left the man without a firearm, Vergil watched the man's progress back from the shadows. When the man reached the vicinity of the outer bunkers, Vergil was content.

Things had definitely changed, Vergil mused. It was not blank criticism when Vergil accused the ADP of allowing the city to fall to ruins. For that was quite literally what remained of New York.

Seemingly random buildings were crumbled entirely, and traffic had ceased indefinitely. Vehicles lay in their masses on the roads, blocking easy access anywhere by car. This hindered the hunters and ADP immeasurably.

The civilians had been evacuated into key positions throughout the city – buildings or zones that were strategically important enough to keep secure for the war, and were the only suitable locations left for unarmed civilians. As far as Vergil knew, the ADP headquarters was one of them. Commerce had, of course, completely halted. Trade in and out of the city, tourism, and the day-to-day lives of the citizens had stopped in it's tracks. However, it was business as usual for the devil hunters, although they were now taking a much more organised approach to hunting. No hunting alone, for example, but some of these rules were something of a nuisance to Vergil.

For instance, Enzo had insisted that all hunters be wired with a transmitter to ensure that all hunters were accounted for. Both Vergil and Lady had protested bitterly – Lady particularly so, but to no avail. The ADP had just moments ago uncovered Vergil in their area as a result.

The Anti-Demon Patrol was an unpleasant surprise for Vergil. Despite having met some previously back before the hunters had left for Egypt – and in the assault on the infested church, the full significance never dawned on Vergil. He had never wondered where the hunters had obtained some of their newer weaponry – the C4 used in blowing apart half of the church, for example. The ADP and the hunters had a casual alliance with the devil hunters. It was in everybody's best interests to work together. Information on primary demonic habitats was collated, and also any information regarding higher-demons was vital, and needed to be shared.

One disadvantage was that the ADP was a state-established force, and therefore were tasked with finding and detaining Vergil, the recent situation being the first out of what would undoubtedly be many uneasy encounters.

The combined force was currently sufficient to prevent any further loss of the city, and possibly even the power to reclaim parts of the city with a struggle, but for how much longer was anybody's guess. For, the rift in the fabric of the human realm that had been created in Egypt remained. Destroying the vast obelisk had prevented the rift's expansion throughout the globe, but had not removed the existing hole. Demons were free to be summoned at will, and the frontline armies of the Order could again recommence multiplying. Vergil himself felt slightly more powerful – converting to his demon form was less of a struggle in terms of energy.

But Vergil had patrolled the skyline long enough. It was time to return back home. The devil hunting business had gone through another important development recently – seeing as demons were amok in bulk, the hunters were not obliged to wait for calls. Also, civilians had to wait through a long queue in order to access a phone in most safe zones, and they would not be calling anybody requesting that demons be terminated. So, the hunters developed a shift-system. Vergil had a longer shift than others accordingly, and it helped take up the infamous night-shift that so many hunters detested.

The sky was slowly but surely changing to a dark hue of orange – morning was nigh. The fact that it was august meant it was closer to morning than it would have previously been by using the darkness as a judge of time.

With a burdened sigh, Vergil leaped onto a nearby rooftop to begin his journey home to the Devil May Cry office.

* * *

Lieutenant Killen was pleasantly surprised by the 'improvements' in Dante's behaviour recently. The half-devil had completely stopped talking, not to mention acting out.

It seemed that the lieutenant's work was cut out for him. He was no longer required to berate the son of Sparda in any shape or form, he did not need to fulfill any problems that the specimen presented (not that Killen had ever cared for _that_ part of his job description), and the newfound silence was certainly refreshing. It was also no longer necessary that Killen spend his entire time outside Dante's cell, as he needed no attention, but could reduce his job to a few regular check-ups, for feeding and for obligatory status reports. The beast had finally learned who is master, it appeared to Killen.

The research was going along well, he was told. The scientists now had a very good idea on the anatomy of the half-devils – almost an exact replica of the average humans, with a few minor alterations attributed to an increase in physical performance. Holy water had been confirmed as toxic to the devil's system, yet an exponentially higher concentration than usual was required to actually kill a half-devil.

The psychological assessments were less than encouraging. Dante had stopped responding entirely, and Dr. Ling seemed to understand why (yet it baffled Dr. Philips, who had previously grown accustomed to Dante's unreserved flirting). Dr. Ling's superiors were becoming increasingly frustrated, as the shrink repeatedly refused to disclose information on the half-devil's mental and emotional status. As a result, the visits to the shrink had been terminated.

Had Killen been a more conscientious 'keeper', and actually check in on Dante during the night, he would have been able to tell the scientists that Dante would tremble uncontrollably in his sleep, groping fruitlessly around his neck for some unknown reason.

A surprising recent update was that Dante's performance in physical tests were improving as opposed to suffering.

Lieutenant Killen should have bore this in mind that one day he broke the week-long silence between the two.

He whistled merrily as he strutted down the corridor alone. It was once necessary that armed personel would accompany him any time the cell door was open, but recent developments had stopped this. Killen's mind was without the slightest anxiety as he dialled the code into the control pad, regardless of his isolation.

There was a small _click_ as the door electronically unlocked, followed by a _whoosh_ as the door receded sideways into the wall.

Dante lay on the covers of his bed, facing blankly upwards at the ceiling. The staff had taken it upon themselves to keep Dante 'respectable'. He was shaved every day, and his once roughly stylish platinum hair had been trimmed to a clean cut.

"Up you get!" Killen commanded nonchalantly, clicking his fingers to get Dante's attention. "Time for your little P.E session."

Dante rolled sideways onto his feet wordlessly, then marched slowly towards the door. Without even casting his gaze sideways, or acknowledging Killen in any way, he proceded towards the lift at the end of the corridor.

With the slightest of smirks, Killen playfully kicked at the heel of Dante's bare foot, tripping him up. Giving a small gasp, Dante fell face first onto the floor, preventing any injury with his hands. The devil lay still for a moment, his breathing becoming overly deep and irregular.

"Try not to look so cheerful, demon," Killen joked teasingly.

Dante remained on the floor, his breathing pattern starting to make Killen anxious.

"Get up, you little pansy," Killen ordered scornfully "It was only a little trip."

Heeding Killen's order silently, Dante slowly got to his feet and faced Killen, his eyes wide and his chest heaving.

Before Killen could say anything else, Dante's fist came into sharp collision with Killen's left cheek without any restraint. There was a horrible crunch as the blow mangled the officer's face, disfiguring many bone figurations and nearly breaking his nose.

The force of the strike knocked Killen off his feet and into the wall forcefully. Dante remained silent, observing him without any sign of emotion save for his gritted teeth.

Killen attempted to scream for help as he fell into a heap, yet all that escaped his devastated jaw was a strangled croak. The terrified man scrambled to his feet and he leaped towards the control panel.

He hurriedly dialled a series of numbers into the panel with a trembling hand. A loud beep signified that he had entered an incorrect code. An attempt at screaming in desperation resulted in a loud gurgle as his blood poured copiously in the remains of his mouth. Chancing a glance backwards, he saw Dante slowly approaching, his face contorted to that of pure rage while he continued to hyperventilate. Killen repeated the procedure again, this time successfully.

With a small hiss of water being pressurised through a small space, the holy water sprinklers activated, dousing the entire corridor. Dante's skin sizzled as the water made contact, yet he continued to advance regardless.

Killen let out a guttural howl of despair, then he once again dialled figures into the panel, this time to sound an alarm. After another failed attempt caused Killen to mash his clenched fist into the panel forcefully before he was seized roughly from behind with seemingly mechanical strength.

Killen lashed out desperately, beating his sore fist with no regard to where he struck. Dante seemed not to notice, but swung Killen by the arm into the wall like a baseball bat, repeatedly and relentlessly, before flinging him onto the floor.

It was now Killen who was prone on the floor, trembling in a pool of his own faded-crimson blood; the holy water diluting the blood as it flowed persistently.

However, Dante was far from done.

* * *

After years of hard work, Larimore's dream had finally been accomplished, in whatever form. Yet, Larimore only felt resentment over his outstanding victory. Resentment and disappointment. Yes, he was president of the United States, but he was far from head of state. He had been promoted from Senator to puppet, because of the whim of his otherworldly superiors. It could just as easily have been Raelson the Order picked.

Larimore stood with his hands held behind his back as he stood looking out of the window of the oval office, watching the sun rise. His jacket was hung on the back of his desk chair, the top button of his white shirt was opened, and his tie hung loosely from his collar – a sure sign that there was something wrong with Larimore, for him to break his normally anally-strict dress-code.

An unhealthy amount of bags underlined his green eyes and a charitable scattering of stubble across his lower jaw gave the President a distinctly exhausted appearance. Indeed, it was only the tip of the iceberg; there was a half-empty container of prescribed valium in the upper drawer of his desk.

"Isn't it......a magnificent view?" an oily voice spoke behind him.

Larimore jumped before spinning round, his hand grasping his chest. Pontius stood before him, his eternally blank face seeming to look him up and down. Joel stood beside his master, dressed in a leather outfit similar to that of a devil hunter. His arms were crossed as he contemplated Larimore. A sizable broadsword was fixed to his back.

"I will surely miss watching the sun rise...you seem troubled, my friend," Pontius remarked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Aren't you – don't you..." Larimore panted "don't you have to use that stone to get into-"

"Not anymore," Pontius replied cheerfully, strolling around the office with interest "You see......we have been rather...busy lately...our..._effects_ are slowly being added to this world...travelling is so much easier."

"I see," Larimore stated, eyeing Joel's broadsword with unease.

Pontius turned around and noticed.

"Joel! Be nice...to our friend." he commanded with a wave of his remaining hand.

Joel, still staring pointedly at Larimore, uncrossed his arms and leaned over casually against the wall.

"I'm here to...introduce you to a good friend," Pontius informed him in a matter-of-fact way "He's truly charming, I'm sure that...you'll like him. He...can handle matters a lot more...speedily than I can..."

Larimore scanned around his office.

"Well, then, where is he?" he queried shakily.

"Joel!" Pontius exclaimed. Without further prompt, Joel obtained the circular tablet from a shelf in the office and flung it to the ground.

As usual, the inner section of the tablet began revolving at a constantly increasing speed. The strong whirlwind swept across the room, but this time Larimore had learned to keep any valuable objects in his desk drawers. As the light shone upwards, a demonic figure emerged.

The figure resembled a knight in black armour, but with red eyes and curved horns. What appeared to be a strange, blue, diamond-shaped third eye without a pupil was on his forehead. His entire body radiated a deep blue light.

"Let me introduce you to my good friend...Crìnge," Pontius said politely.

Crìnge bowed his head slightly.

"A pleasure to meet you...Mr. President." the brother of Sparda spoke, his inhuman voice resonating in the customary Sparda fashion.

Crìnge offered Larimore his hand. Hesitating briefly, Larimore accepted.

"I do apologise for my entrée. I understand what a hassle these devices can be," Crìnge apologised, gesturing towards the stone tablet on the floor, which levitated and replaced itself on the shelf by Crìnge's mental command. "I had no access to the same device Pontius used to travel here. This was the most suitable remaining option."

"Don't – don't worry about it," Larimore answered automatically.

"You are a gentleman," Crìnge told him with a smile "I can see Pontius picked the right candidate. I must admit, I personally felt that we should have nominated that Raelson to follow our orders."

He spoke as though he had done Larimore a great personal wrong.

"Did you need me for something?" Larimore asked him nervously.

"Ah, yes, to business," Crìnge said, then gestured towards Larimore's chair "Please take a seat."

Larimore immediately obeyed.

"First of all, I must thank you for being such a great asset," Crìnge began sincerely "Your information on your troops' orders and positions have been invaluable."

"Y- your welcome," Larimore responded.

"Now, we need you to direct your troops to a specific human enemy," Crìnge told him firmly "Surely your voters would appreciate you putting your policies into place? The military abroad fighting a non-existent enemy..."

Pontius chuckled merrily at this. Crìnge allowed him to finish before continuing.

"Humans are notorious in their inability to co-exist. Your voters will believe you wholeheartedly if you direct the blame of war and death on another human country. Perhaps Russia? China? It is at your liberty to decide. You have done your job admirably thus far. We are sure you will not disappoint us on this."

Larimore sighed raggedly to himself. He had been expecting an order of some form regarding the US military. Although, he had underestimated the cunning of the Order. Larimore had anticipated that he be forced to withdraw his troops home and cease war with the demons that his voters did not believe in. But to actually wage war against another country...

"You do not want to disappoint us," Crìnge told him, reading his thoughts "Your family's well-being is on the line. Not just death, Mr. President, but eternal agony. For you, also. I'm sure you will make the right decision."

"What harm will keeping my troops on the demonic line do?" Larimore objected "Surely it makes no difference..."

"We have operations that would best be left unhindered," was Crìnge's response "That is all you need to know."

"What operations? Where?!" Larimore inquired.

"We have told you all you need to know for the present," Crìnge answered "Maybe after you have proven your worth further may we tell you more. But for now, you have yet to fulfill your most important order."

Crìnge then turned to Pontius.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have arrangements to make."

"Good luck," Pontius said happily "Not that luck is......important anymore...isn't that right, Mr. President?"

Larimore didn't respond, but stared blankly at his desk. Crìnge made a waving hand motion, and the stone tablet placed itself on the floor again. As it activated once more, Crìnge turned once more to Larimore.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. President."

And with that last farewell, Crìnge departed with a brilliant flash of light. Larimore was not sure why they referred to him as Mr. President. Perhaps it was to give him some sense of position or authority, or perhaps they were mocking him. It made Larimore's stomach twist every time they said it in any case.

Pontius was now observing the now quite high sun by the window.

"This should be......interesting to say the least. Shouldn't...it, Mr. President?"

* * *

The Smithston diner was almost empty. Two obese men were seated by the centre, alternating between giving David a filthy look and exchanging disapproving glances with each other. Besides that, a middle-aged woman with wild brown hair sat alone in a booth, looking into her full, long-cold cup of coffee with dead eyes. The only other people present besides David himself were staff of the diner; one bearded chef leaning against an oven, staring into space dreamily, and one waitress with a name-tag reading "_Patricia_" leaning against the counter, doing a crossword.

David cleared his throat as he reached the counter.

"Excuse me?" he politely called out to Patricia.

Patricia looked up lazily from her crossword. She was actually quite attractive, David couldn't help but notice. She was obviously of foreign descent due to her tanned complexion, and her flaming red hair was tied back in a bun save for a stray lock of hair that fell to her left eyebrow. She reminded David of someone, but he couldn't place his finger on exactly who. She raised her eyebrows to signal that she was listening.

"Is there a phone here that I could use?" he inquired.

"Yes. Just around the counter here. Knock yourself out," she answered.

Her distinct accent caused David to frown temporarily, but he smiled and thanked her as he proceded around to use the phone. That accent was also familiar somehow.

Upon reaching the phone, David paused. He was not quite sure who to call now that he had located a phone. He had no family that he knew of, and his friends were on the run. But, there was only one number that David could even remember, and he eventually opted to dial it just in case.

The phone rang twice before it was answered.

"Yeah?" a female voice answered distractedly. David could hear a serious discussion in the background.

"Is this Devil May Cry?" David cautiously asked. This immediately grabbed the attention of Patricia.

The line was quiet for a few seconds.

"Is this Tailor?!" the person answered, her tone disbelieving.

"It is, yeah." David replied, casting an eye aside to catch Patricia observing him unblinkingly.

"Oh my god, it's good to hear from you again! Where are you, hon?" David recognised the voice as Trish's. He smiled.

"Just a little shit-hole called Smithston," David informed her casually. One of the obese men spat onto his empty plate.

"Smithston? Where's that?" Trish asked. The conversation in the background had stopped.

"Nevada somewhere," David said vaguely, waving it off "But more importantly, I need to find a way back there. Are any of the...are they there?" He asked nervously, distrusting the security of the line. It might not have been safe to say the twin's names.

"Tony's not," Trish replied cryptically "But Nelo's right here with us. We hoped that you might know where Tony is."

"I'm afraid I don't. But it's good to hear that Nelo managed to reunite with you. Now, how about arranging some way to get me out of here?"

There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the line.

"That might be a problem. We're stretched thin over here as it is. We might be able to send somebody out, but even then finding Smithston could be a problem."

David could not suppress a groan as he leaned his head against the wall.

"I'm sorry, hon, I really am," Trish told him earnestly "I'll see what we can do. Just sit tight for a while. Maybe you can work on getting some directions to Smithston in the meantime."

Somebody on the other side could be heard whispering something to Trish. Trish groaned.

"I gotta go, Tailor," Trish eventually stated "Like I said, I'll see what we can do, but for the time being stay where you are – actually, see if you can make your way to somewhere more accessible. Is Smithston near Las Vegas? Or any other city with an airport? Or even – oh, I'm sorry Tailor, I _really_ have to go now -"

"I'll check, yeah. Bye." David said dully before the line went dead.

He sighed wearily and stood fixed to the spot for a small while, his head still resting against the wall. Things were looking grim. He was shaken from further thoughts by Patricia tapping him pointedly on the shoulder.

"Tailor?" she asked confidently.

"Hmm?" David replied as he turned round. It bothered him that she knew his name – she must have somehow heard Trish on the phone.

"We need to talk. Come with me," she told him, before turning on the spot.

"I'm taking my lunch now, okay Harris?" she called out the to chef. He appeared not to have heard her, but she made her way out regardless, with Tailor following, looking slightly alarmed.

She led him across the road and down the lane into a trailer park, where she obviously lived. Patricia inserted the key into the door of the dwelling farthest from the gate and told him to sit down on the moth-eaten sofa. Tailor did so without question.

After ensuring that nobody else was around, Patricia shut the door, locked it, then turned to face David apprehensively.

"I know where '_Tony_' is," she informed David grimly.

* * *

_Joe: Hope that was long enough for you. It was certainly long enough for me, at any rate._

_Things are starting to come together, and I'm not entirely sure how much longer this will take, but the final section is coming up. However long that lasts is anyone's guess._

_That's it for now – as usual, reviews will be greatly appreciated._

_Ciao._


	28. Hitting the Road

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, I only lay claim over a few Original Characters, and even then anyone can use them, should they want._

_Joe: Things have slowed down quite a lot, I know. I really feel I have to apologise, but I keep getting caught up with other projects, if I devote my time to writing fics at all._

_Now, I wouldn't quite call this the turning point, but it's certainly getting close. It's finally gotten very entertaining to write again, which is good news for all of you. The material's still kind of dark, but with light starting to shine through at long last (Awww). I suppose I'd better remind you of the rating; T. That means it's actually kind of adult, but I suspected that an M rating would cut down readers. But seeing as you all are of the age group to play Devil May Cry (and judging by some of the other fics I've seen in this fandom), this chapter shouldn't be a shock to the system for any of you._

_Just one more thing; I've been asked if Nero and the Order of the Sword will appear, and my answer remains no. This is intended to precede the fourth instalment, and seeing as I started this before it even came out, the chronology will get screwed up. For the sakes of this fic, it'll help if you see it as thus; three, one, two, _this_, and then four. You see, when this started I took the plot-lines of the first three, and tried to make logical sense out of it to ground this fic, and since the first and second games were linked, the addition of DMC4 threw a spanner in the works. So please assume that the first three games happened before the fourth, just for this._

_Well, enjoy._

_

* * *

_

The Devil Hunters had re-established their base of operations in the lamp-lit subterranean cavern dug from the walls of a metro line. The base had undergone considerable expansions recently, not by grandeur or whim but by necessity. The business had now consumed the lives of it's members, and accommodation was needed by the devoted hunters. Partly due to the fact that for many, such as Enzo, twenty-four hour shifts became a grim fact of life, and the chore of resurfacing to return home - with an armed escort to fend off the demons that would most certainly ambush the weary hunter - became too much an effort to perform on a regular basis. The expansion was also due to the fact that many hunters no longer had the luxury of their own home, the destruction wrought by the demons so widespread that entire districts were reduced to rubble.

The _Devil May Cry_ was amongst those homes ruined, an inevitable yet still heartbreaking occurrence for it's previous inhabitants. It had been located in the slums, there were no nearby places of strategic importance, and it was off-the-beaten-track; sooner or later the demons were going to demolish it or infest it, with no reinforcements close enough to be of any help. It was only then did the severity of the situation occur to Vergil and Trish. Whilst the _Devil May Cry_ stood on it's foundations, they had a home and a base to work from, and the onslaught seemed bearable, if not trivial. Now that they were bunking in the newly carved barracks of the Hunter's headquarters the magnitude of how much they had lost was painfully clear.

Vergil opted not to think about it. In his opinion becoming stressed and burdened by the situation was an option, rather than a natural occurrence of a rational being. He would therefore spend his nights in the sanctum – what basically amounted to a war room – giving his advice and listening to reports if he decided to stay in and if he intended on sleeping that night. However, the majority of nights were spent patrolling the disquietingly diminishing number of rooftops, quietly observing the _ADP_ in the cover of the shadows.

Devil Hunters were by harsh experience unperturbed by rough nights and constant fighting, but the morale was steadily decreasing amongst the survivors. Some of the more battle-hardened, such as Lady, would grit her teeth and get things done under her own shift, and reserve the worried obsessing for the sleepless nights spent in the cold barracks. Others had succumbed to despair; some had even lost the will or capability to fight on. Yet that was what the others had to do as they persisted, watching their friends and family die and grieve around them, knowing that their decreasingly motivated struggles could never halt the flow of demons.

Gestures of hope were non-existent. A real victory had not occurred since Egypt. Reclaiming the fallen church was a distant fantasy in the vague recesses of their minds. They had not recaptured anything of importance, real or imagined, since their return.

The only hope they received was from each other, their comrades in the same foxholes as their own burdened selves. There were frequently celebrations of nothing in particular in the Sanctum; the hunters would drink themselves into stupors with recently liberated beverages to the sound of an out-of-tune guitar.

But they were together, albeit barely.

Grief and exhaustion were the prevailing states of mind. Stress for an extended duration did things to people. Vergil took up drinking. The angry bickering between Pike and Anvil reached breaking-point, until all that existed between them was a cold tension, periodically marked by angry and silent sex.

Just as the war tore lovers apart, it drew others together, unlikely as they may have seemed at the beginning:

It was a night of opportunity and revelations. The sanctum was occupied by just three people; Enzo, Vergil and Trish.

The sanctum was a relatively spacious room, sufficiently large to fit a large oak table big enough for thirty with room to spare. The desk was constantly cluttered with large maps of the New York districts and metro systems, as well as intelligence sent by the _ADP_. Indeed, an old-fashioned radio was placed on the table, intended for communications with the _Anti-Demon Patrol_. Intelligence was scarce, but maintaining the lines of communication was enough of an asset to continue to keep them.

"_ADP_ says that they've been ordered to escort a VIP outta the city and across the country, and they might need some help. Sometime tomorrow," Enzo informed the other two, his hoarse voice indicative of excessive smoking "This order came from the top brass, and they say it was made clear that absolutely _nothing_ should happen to the loads."

Enzo had put on a fair amount of weight, more than the weight he had lost in order to fight in Egypt. Enzo had never exactly been a lean man, but it had gotten to the stage where his health was starting to suffer. Food supplies were relatively broad; demons ransacking a building were uninterested in foodstuffs, but it was the weeks spent in the Sanctum that were detrimental to Enzo's wellbeing, coupled with his drinking and smoking habits which had skyrocketed accordingly to his stress.

"Who's the load?" Trish asked. She herself was handling relatively fine, being a full demon. The only sign of any pressure on her was that she had stopped wearing make-up, for hunters were unwilling to make expeditions so far into the city just to secure make-up while food was such a constant issue.

"Eh," Enzo blinked twice before reaching onto the desk and retrieving a sheet of intel and skimming back through the report "Some woman and her child."

"What makes them so important?" Trish queried, unimpressed "There's plenty of families making do in the safe-houses."

"A gesture of sorts by the government," Enzo replied bitterly "Your classic _Saving Private Ryan_ shit. Apparently the husband's a soldier stationed in some fort in Nevada, got himself mauled by a half-demon. They want to let the wife and child see him. I'd say it's a fucking publicity stunt. What they _won't_ see on the news is the lives it's gonna cost bringing them across the country..."

Trish nodded grimly in agreement while Vergil frowned, visibly puzzled.

"A _half-demon_ mauled him?" he inquired incredulously.

Enzo caught onto his drift, his mouth open slightly as he considered the implications. Half-demons were a rare commodity; apart from the sons of Sparda and the Guardians of Vie de Marli, there were no reports of any such beings.

"According to the intel, yeah..." Enzo answered quietly "...do you think...?"

There was no need to finish the sentence. Trish and Vergil exchanged meaningful glances, both thinking of Dante. Trish suddenly gasped as some long-forgotten piece of information graced her memory.

"Where did you say they've to be brought?" she asked excitedly.

"Er – Nevada somewhere. It's unspecific in the report," Enzo replied vaguely "All the ADP told us is that there's a military base this guy's stationed at, and he got savaged by a half-demon. Since it's a fort in Nevada, I'd say it's in the middle of the desert somewhere."

"That's where Tailor is," Trish stated informatively.

"How do you know?" Vergil demanded of her quickly.

"He rang," she replied, suddenly ashamed "I forgot to tell you. He said he's stuck in some shit-kicker town, and wanted to know if we could pick him up. I told him not to hold his breath. But, now we could get him if we're already in the area."

"Not to overlook the fact that there is a military base containing half-demons," Vergil added "Which are almost certainly the Guardians, and possibly Dante. With them, things will turn on this front. We could easily break them out of captivity, if we-"

"Don't even fucking _think_ about it," Enzo interjected sharply "That would involve assaulting a US fort. We are in no position to add the feds to our list of enemies, especially with all that the ADP is doing for us."

Vergil glared menacingly at Enzo, who returned it confidently.

"Don't you even _care_ that -" Vergil began angrily.

"You're not gonna try and guilt me outta this, Vergil, because you know I'm right," Enzo cut across him heatedly "We aren't gonna risk the whole force on breaking Dante out while we're stretched thin as it is. If you ask me, he's better off where he is – assuming that he _is_ actually there."

"You don't have to risk the whole force," Vergil replied reasonably "Just me. I'm already wanted by the government, and I'm perfectly fine with going alone."

"We need you _here_," Enzo stated firmly "There isn't nothing that gets through to these demons, except _you_. They all seem to know it when you're here, and are less of a problem. With you outta the picture, we're all screwed."

"But," Vergil began, before simmering for a while, as he didn't have an answer immediately prepared "...think about it. Risk my absence for about a week, maybe two, and your result is an army of half-devils."

"If you're right," Enzo pointed out.

"If I'm right." Vergil agreed.

Trish stood between the two, worried by their heated exchange. Her arms were crossed and her lips were creased into a pout as she watched them argue.

"You know what, Enzo?" she interrupted the two impatiently "If he's willing to risk his own neck in saving the half-devils, fine. Why hold him back? But still, Vergil, don't be expecting us to rush in and save your ass if it all goes to Hell."

The other two went quiet, both satisfied by her ultimatum.

By now a low rumble was heard from a separate chamber, with intensifying volume. A large crowd was approaching, an excited crowd at that. Sound travelled easily throughout the bunker; the only door set up in the place was the entrance for security purposes. However people were working day and night to improve the quality of the bunker; people rescued from the city who were willing to be of use; engineers, doctors, and many able hands all contributed to help the hunters that were fighting for the city. Though most civilians were content to sit and cling to their remaining families in the ADP protected sanctuaries, others felt that they must do whatever they could. While the ADP was a state-established force, and thus did not require the services of the civilian population, the devil hunters received such people with open hands. The services offered included medical help (provided that the hunters regularly foraged for drugs and other medical equipment, catering for the ever-exhausted hunters, and structural improvements by engineers and those willing to do manual labour. Electricians did their best to keep a power supply, and occasionally they were escorted by the hunters to substations in order to reboot the system that the demons frequently attacked.

These services were all inestimably helpful to the devil hunters, but that which they needed the most was extra manpower for fighting, their most valuable resource. To a very limited extent they received this. The homeless people of the city had been among the first victimised by the demonic hordes, yet their numbers were constantly on the increase due to buildings being demolished and scrapped apart on the sadistic whim of the demons. Some of the original homeless were still left. Having always harboured a deep paranoia of death and demons, these fears finally being founded gave them reason enough to fight. In the underground headquarters of the devil hunters, an armoury had been established. The armoury was not guarded, the rule of thumb amongst the hunters being that if you could fire a weapon you were welcome to it. Besides, the dead throughout the city more often than had a weapon of some description on their form; be it a lead pipe or a handgun, or an assault rifle from a deceased ADP or hunter. They were never in a position where they were suffering from a shortage of weaponry. The homeless were often no more than a transitory attack force; untrained, unfamiliar with their weaponry, susceptible to be killed just as easily as killing any kind of demon – if not more likely to be killed. Not to say that they were ineffective. Not only the fact that they were useful as shock troops, but ADP and hunters, aware of their location and movements, used them as an unwitting diversion for the demons to ensure a successful flanking ploy against the adversary. Or even as meat shields. The ADP often questioned the morality of this, whereas the devil hunters shrugged it off, claiming that the homeless had volunteered themselves into a war. This remained one of many differences that challenged the alliance between the ADP and the devil hunters.

The sheer volume of the noise created by the incoming crowd either meant that the war was over, or that they were all anticipating getting hopelessly drunk. Vergil shrewdly suspected the latter.

Surely enough, even the first few two enter the sanctum were clutching containers of various beverages rescued from the ruins of some bar or other. Enzo's previously beleaguered expression lightened at this sight, and he went so far as to give a light-hearted laugh and rub his hands together. These nights were the only good ones left to live for. Sure, there were always hunters stationed at key points adjacent to the entrance (not by the entrance itself, which would compromise their position), but those that were free were able to enjoy themselves, for however long a duration until the bitter fight continued.

The room became full of demon hunters armed with an impressive amount of drinks, before due regard was given to the variety.

Even Vergil's mouth twinged upwards as he noticed Lady and Pike lugging in a large case between them. It was a wooden crate with a bolted lid, the contents of which gave the tinkling of glass on glass each time the crate swung to the side as the two progressed. With a heave, they lifted in onto the desk, by Vergil.

"Some rich bastard left this behind," a breathless Lady explained cheerfully "Found it in the ruins of a sizable-looking house. Pike didn't want to drag it all the way back, but I couldn't just leave it all there. Besides, an ADP convoy was escorting civilians to a safe-house nearby. Any demons in the area would have been preoccupied with the supposedly easy meat nearby."

As she said this, Pike unbolted the lid and opened the crate. Vergil peered in gleefully. Contained inside were many bottles of red wine. Vergil grinned.

"It's good stuff, I checked," Lady told him, somewhat proudly. Indeed, the son of Sparda was impressed as he reached in and gently unearthed a bottle, on which the label read '_Chateauneuf du Pape'._

"You owe me big, Lady," Pike grumbled irritably, hand placed to an aching back "You were barely lifting at all. Across half the fucking city. I don't even _like_ wine."

"What do you want, a cookie? Go get drunk or something," Lady brushed him off, waving a hand dismissively. Her bald friend walked off, mumbling darkly. She turned to Vergil, then reached into the crate, producing two glasses. "May I?"

"Please do," Vergil answered as he produced a thin knife from a sheath strapped to his thigh, flourishing it, then thrusting it into the cork before twisting clockwise and upwards. The cork emerged with a satisfying _pop_.

Elsewhere, Enzo was interrogating Anvil whilst examining a bottle of Jameson twelve-year reserve whiskey with an approving smirk.

"-so you think they're suddenly going all-out on the docks?" he asked her, his eyes elsewhere but very much alert to her answer "what the hell would they want the docks for?"

"Asking the wrong gal," Anvil replied, a can of lager clenched in her hands "I suppose they sense something of interest there. Maybe some big fucker in charge is giving them orders, since the docks aren't of much use to _them_, but they're of huge strategic importance to -"

Her eyes met Pike's across the room. Both of them immediately turned away, scowling. Anvil took a mouthful of her drink and paused for a while before continuing "so they're of importance to us. The demons won't have any use for them, but if there's a clever one in charge, it'll know that keeping us annoyed is useful for them."

Having successfully opened the bottle, Enzo poured the contents into a small glass before downing it. He gave a loud appreciative sigh afterwards.

"Good shit...so, you reckon that there's a higher devil in the city?"

"I hope not, but there's a good chance there is."

"Fuck." Enzo replied with a grimace "That's all we need right now. God knows we're having trouble just with the sheer mass of the smaller ones. But now they're organised..."

"What's more, if the big guy decides to show himself on the battlefield it's all over," Anvil added grimly "In addition to the hordes of smaller ones."

Enzo's response to this statement was the filling of a much larger glass with whiskey. Although he said nothing, Anvil knew what was going through the ex-hunter's mind.

"Don't lose sleep over it, Enzo," she said consolingly "Sure, we have Vergil, don't we?". A worried frown spread across her face when she saw his reaction.

"We won't," Enzo groaned, before banging his head on the desk "He's headed off to fucking Nevada. Thinks he can break Dante out of a military base."

"Is he out of his mind?" Anvil demanded, stricken. "We're screwed without him!"

"That's what I said," Enzo mumbled "He won't listen."

"Well," Anvil began calmly, searching for an optimistic viewpoint "well, suppose he can break Dante out. That's the two of them on our side of the frontline."

"Anvil..." Enzo said glumly, raising his head "Nevada. Fucking _Nevada_. Imagine how long it'll take to get over there from New York, _then_ to break Dante out – after figuring out _how_ – then, naively assuming he's not dead or captured, the two of them have to make their way back. All the while, we're stuck here without Vergil, while a higher devil is parading around."

Anvil had no response. She merely stared grimly at Enzo, who downed his glass before letting out a rasping sigh. The sounds of merriment were to be heard from all directions, but it seemed that the two of them were in a world of their own, painfully aware of the war going on around them.

And yet there was one such person who was perfectly aware of the situation and it's significance who was currently allowing himself to enjoy the current occasion.

Vergil was seated with Lady to one corner of the room, a glass of wine in both of their hands.

"-and so I have to leave early tomorrow, if not tonight, before anybody tries to stop me," Vergil explained, his thoughts somewhat loosened.

Lady was silent for a moment, staring solemnly into his eyes.

"This is a huge risk you're taking, you know that?" she asked him quietly.

Vergil nodded as he refilled his glass and, after waiting for prompt, refilled Lady's.

"It has to be done. I can't just leave the Guardians – and hopefully Dante – to stay in captivity," Vergil answered sincerely, before adding as an afterthought "Did you know, that we were actually there before? At least I think so. A military base with research centres inside...in Nevada somewhere, I saw a map in the base. They dissected demons there, you see, scrapped them apart to see how they worked...and every demon died in the end, for one reason or another."

"You don't think that...?" Lady queried anxiously.

Vergil took in a deep breath, took a sip of wine, then answered darkly;

"If they are, either I join the pile or everybody in that centre does."

The two fell quiet once again, Vergil staring at his glass and Lady staring at Vergil. When she next spoke, there was worry in her voice.

"You don't have to do this," she urged him, her hand unwittingly placed on his.

"I do. I don't expect anybody to understand," Vergil replied, oblivious "But Dante is worth the risk. He would most definitely have done the same."

"You really do care for him," Lady commented, somewhat surprised.

"I..." Vergil began hesitantly, before continuing quietly "I always did... I just denied it. I was just... _afraid_ of what it - what it meant. I was worried of the repercussions it would have on how people saw me. I placed so much importance on my image...I didn't realise that...that image is what you get as a result of your actions, it shouldn't be the _cause_ for your actions. I just held everything back..."

Vergil cut himself off, before giving Lady a timid smile, to feign that he didn't really mean what he meant, as he realised just how much he had let out. But he couldn't swallow his words, seeing how heartfelt they were, surprising both himself and Lady. Lady seemed stricken by his words, more so than he himself was. Her grip on his hand tightened, before she slowly leaned over, close.

Upon blinking Vergil realised their lips were both connected, her tongue in his mouth, and there was a moment where he went rigid, shocked. But he didn't resist, nor was he actively participating.

Suddenly he drew back sharply, his eyes wide and his face red. Lady's face went a deep shade of crimson, before she looked away, embarrassed.

Vergil did not mean for it to look the way it did. His issue was not Lady, but rather the fact that he had no issue. Uncomfortable thoughts raced through his mind, questions he had no immediate answer to, and that he would rather not provide an answer for.

Not long ago he had killed a woman, not because he needed to, but because he was angered by the rumours. Rumours of...of...a romantic relationship. He had taken agonising attempts to maintain his image as the masterful warrior throughout his life – calm, detached, collected – and this woman threatened to shatter that image. She herself had done nothing to portray anything substantial. Spoken politely, giggled at his comments, displayed signs of vague affection – but it was the commentary of Dante and Tailor that had inflicted insecurity on Vergil. Vulgar jokes at his expense, and his reaction was to remove the woman from the picture – by killing her. He had made himself believe that he could kill humans at will, whether he really could or not – and thus found no qualms in murdering the culprit woman, who's only crime was her existence. It was his fault he killed her, not hers.

And here he was now, the possibility of such a relationship in arms reach. Did he want this? Was he ready?

Of course he wanted it, this was obvious to him. Though, did _she_? Did Lady know what she was getting herself into?

It was just a kiss, he was overreacting, he scolded himself. One kiss and he had to undergo a mental and emotional self-analysis. He reasoned that he should just seize this meager opportunity, just a kiss, and for once abandon any regard for the future. What happens, happens.

She was beginning to leave now, and he reprimanded himself internally again. Lady was on her feet now, heading for the doorway of the room, berating herself for being so fucking stupid. She knew who she was dealing with, and she didn't think twice about it - did she even think about it?

Vergil reached out and squeezed her hand gently. Lady froze, and wasted a second before turning back around, to look back at Vergil's face. They were both silent for a short while, before reuniting.

She could sense his hesitance, his lack of confidence. She had found the one place where he was not in control. It was in one way pleasant, refreshing even. Although not at all what she had been expecting, or rather hoping for.

Their actions did not go unnoticed. Not far away, Trish and Pike were sharing a crate of beer. Though Trish was a demon, and therefore more resistant to the intoxicating effect of alcohol, Pike in some recess of his mind considered it weak to drink less than her, and as a result was drinking an intemperate proportion of the lager.

With a wry smile Trish noted the actions of Vergil and Lady nearby, and rather subtly coughed and informed Pike of the situation in a low voice. Pike, in an admittedly less inconspicuous fashion, belched loudly and leered blearily at the pair.

"Dante's gonna be – _hic_ – pissed," Pike grumbled with some difficulty.

"My God," Trish sighed wearily "You're actually hiccuping."

"So what?!" Pike demanded impatiently.

"I think you've had enough, hon. And as for Dante, I don't see what you mean. If anything, he should be happy for Vergil."

"For what? Making out? That's not exactly enough for Dante to be proud of," Pike answered with a coarse smile.

"Ugh," Trish responded, shaking her head with disdain "I don't mean like that. I mean, he'd be proud that Vergil opened up at _all_."

"He's still got the rest of the baseball pitch to run," Pike pointed out before downing the rest of his bottle and exuding a loud belch. "You know, Trish, you're actually really hot..."

Trish gave Pike a light push on the shoulder, inadvertently sending him sprawling to the floor. She had evidently overestimated his current sense of balance.

"Sorry, hon." Trish apologised dispassionately.

The only reply she got was heavy snoring. With an exasperated sigh, Trish finished her drink in a final gulp and went off to find somebody conscious with whom she could share gossip.

* * *

It was difficult to determine the time in the barracks. There were no windows, for they were underground, and there was no clock. Lamps were constantly lit day through night, electric lamps thanks to the helpful volunteers. Judging the general time by the people sleeping there was an ineffective method, as hunters had a shift system which guaranteed exhausted dormers at all times. It could just as easily be night as day, as far as they eye could see at any given point in time inside the barracks. Vergil had only discovered the time by the visibly expensive silver watch strapped to Lady's arm. She was clearly doing much better than she would have in peacetime.

The barracks consisted of rows of salvaged beds of varying shapes and sizes. There was constant bickering over the right to ownership over many of the more luxurious beds, many of the more forceful personalities claiming ownership over the double and king-sized beds, though they were for the most part ignored by their comrades who gleefully seized said beds at any given opportunity.

As they were the first to retire, Lady and Vergil had secured a highly coveted double bed at the far corner of the barracks.

Vergil was wide awake. He was sitting up, with the duvet covering his body from his belly button down. He confirmed the time by checking Lady's watch for the umpteenth time that morning. Five o'clock in the morning. He knew he had to depart soon.

Demons were most active at midnight and at noon, so it was only logical that most human operations of importance took place at six in the morning and afternoon. If the ADP were sending out a convoy, they would do so at a time that the convoy would be under less of a threat of attack.

Vergil had been awake for quite a while now, checking Lady's watch at frequent intervals. He constantly reminded himself that he should be already leaving just in case, but just as often he made concessions in his timetable to remain in bed and watch Lady's sleeping form. This was a very new and exciting – yet slightly nerve-racking – experience for him. Last night had been a huge leap for him, and the result was that he had been awake since three in the morning reflecting on it, somewhat thrilled, somewhat afraid. He had begun by promising himself that it was just a kiss, and that it was really nothing of significance. Now he was not so sure. As he observed Lady's gently rhythmic inhaling and exhaling, he became aware of deep feelings for her, unfamiliar, frightening. His stomach lurched when he wondered if she harboured these same feelings for him, or if last night may have meant nothing to her. Had this venture only been the result of alcohol? Vergil had consumed a lot of wine, but not enough for him to become truly intoxicated. Admittedly, Lady had drank less, but Vergil was unsure of the effect per unit quantity of alcohol on humans. But he reasoned that she did not seem imbalanced in any way, save for perhaps a greater willingness for close interaction than he usually attributed to Lady. She had definitely not been drunk, he reasoned with surprising relief.

He then considered if these feelings were only natural for a first partner, that it really _was_ nothing. He concluded that it was only nothing if he so felt. But having said that, Vergil did not ever wish to leave this bed.

He exhaled heavily. He had undergone a transformation of sorts, and he was now wondering in retrospect if it was an intelligent thing to have done. Just yesterday he had been sure of his mission, but now he was reluctant even to begin it.

Vergil reached over and tenderly stroked her raven hair from her face. Lady mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep before rolling over. It would take considerable effort and willpower for him to leave.

Blinking twice, he then scolded himself. He was dwelling on this too much. He forcefully reminded himself of the bigger picture. Dante. The Guardians.

The War.

The fate of the humans rested on him, he knew. Without the contribution the half-devils could offer, there was no desirable outcome of this war that Vergil could see.

But, what happens when he leaves New York? Without his protection, the hunters were at great risk. Vergil could sense something dwelling in the city, out of sight but not out of mind. A higher devil, of that he was sure. The son of Sparda was confident that he could confront the devil, but, like any clever puppet master, the devil would most certainly not show himself to Vergil without first attempting all other alternatives. Should the devil perceive Vergil's absence, then what? Would he unleash himself onto the remaining, human defenders? Watching Lady's sleeping form, the thought crossed Vergil's mind that, should he leave, Lady, among the other hunters, may be decimated in their masses.

But in terms of the war, they were less of an asset than the Guardians. That was undeniable.

What should he act on? The greater good? Or, his own interests?

He did not need to ask himself such a question, for he already knew the answer. Closing his eyes, Vergil clasped onto Lady's hand and squeezed.

He had to leave, now.

Vergil opened his eyes, sighed once again, then placed his hand on Lady's shoulder and began to wake her. He had to say goodbye. After a moments groaning, Lady clasped a hand to her eyes and yawned loudly. She exhaled heavily.

"What time is it?" she grumbled irritably "Don't fucking tell me it's morning already."

"It is five – fifteen in the morning," Vergil informed her.

"Quarter past fucking five?" she snapped incredulously, but softened when she finally noticed his expression. "What's wrong?"

"I have to leave," Vergil said simply.

"You – you're leaving? Now?" she asked quickly.

"I have to. You know I do. Please don't make this any more difficult than it already is," Vergil told her, in what almost sounded like a pleading tone.

"I'm headed for the ADP convoy that should be leaving for Nevada. I felt I needed to say goodbye first," Vergil said firmly. Lady sensed from his tone that he felt that he was being thoughtful. "And...I...needed to ask you...about last night."

He faltered, evidently stuck for words.

"Did you...feel anything for...for...?"

"You're new to this, aren't you?" Lady asked him with a smile, before yawning again and adding. "I'm feeling generous, so I'll be patient."

Vergil's lip twitched upwards and he nodded slightly in response.

"If you're asking me if I think we have a chance together, I'd say yes," Lady stated, eyes twinkling at Vergil's wide smile. "But you've got a lot to learn about this whole 'relationship' thing. Leaving the morning after sex isn't considered a good habit for a boyfriend."

As she uttered that last word, Vergil's stomach lurched. Boyfriend. He was her boyfriend. The word was such a clumsy term, it meant nothing for Vergil. He was not about to take to the trivialised human notion of 'boyfriend' with glee. But he was with her, and that was the part he seized upon. He had clearly gone quiet for a while, because Lady asked him;

"You were saying?"

"Yes. I...have to leave. I might not be back for a long time, if at all."

The implications of the last three words had an imposing effect on the pair, which Vergil had not anticipated when he said it. The possibility of his capture for life, or even his death, went through their minds.

"When exactly are you leaving?" Lady inquired softly.

"Now. I really have to go, immediately," Vergil replied, and his face went dark as he realised the time. He stared at her silently for half a minute, before stating "Goodbye."

"Wait – just – five minutes," Lady insisted desperately, leaning into him and they tenderly kissed again.

Though unplanned, they pulled the blankets over themselves and lost complete track of time, neither caring for that blissful expanse of time they had left together.

* * *

"_Alpha-Delta-Papa Base, this is convoy Lima-Kilo One, message. Over."_

"_Alpha-Delta-Papa base receiving, send. Over."_

"_We have encountered an obstruction on the road. The ruins of a building have overlapped the designated route. Requesting permission to take an alternative route. Over."_

"_Standby, over."_

Vergil stood on the rooftop of a nearby building, observing the progress of an Armoured Personnel Carrier along one of the remaining roads out of the city. The APC, an M113-A4, a newly designed model for the war, had been modified heavily for this independent cross-country mission, with an augmented engine to provide a much higher top-speed than it's counterparts. A mounted machine gun on a revolvable platform was fixed to the roof, with an Anti-Demon Patrol soldier manning it.

The son of Sparda had not arrived in time to watch the departure of the convoy from the ADP headquarters, nor seen the woman and child to be escorted, but it was not a difficult task in tracking down the vehicle.

Yamato attached to his belt, and Force Edge sheathed at his back, Vergil confidently patrolled the area around the convoy, careful not to be spotted himself. The ADP still had orders to arrest him on sight.

To reduce his worries about the protection of the hunters in his absence, Vergil left the blade Crìnge in Trish's keeping. He doubted it would be sufficient to hold back the tide, but he only hoped that it would be enough to ensure their livelihood until his return.

He had no idea what communications were going on between the convoy and the HQ. It may have intrigued him to know that the ADP were cursing the devil hunters for not providing support for the convoy as planned. Enzo had not spared any hunters as he knew that Vergil had departed to follow and protect the convoy by himself.

Guessing correctly, he deduced that the APC had stopped in it's tracks to wait for further orders. The road they were moving along was obstructed by debris from a destroyed building, and there was only one remaining turn that would keep them on track towards Nevada, though Vergil could feel that it led through a demon-infested section of the city. The ADP evidently knew that as well, or they would not have stopped.

"_Lima-Kilo One, you are granted permission to take the alternative route. Be advised, there is reportedly heavy demonic activity in that area. Alpha-Delta-Papa Base, Out."_

Vergil watched as the APC traversed to take the left turn, then swiftly moved along the buildings alongside it, never allowing it out of his sights for more than a few seconds. He fell into a position a mile or two ahead of the convoy before waiting in position, allowing himself a few minutes to sit and watch. It was then that he saw it first.

It was hard to distinguish from it's surroundings at first, as it was completely transparent, almost to a degree that rendered it invisible. It's translucent body consisted of a strange grey substance, unidentifiable as either liquid or gas, that constantly swirled and writhed, like steam. The substance was shaped to form a quadrupedal creature, which Vergil could not determine as canine or feline. It's eyes were dull orange lights, which were the easiest way of seeing the creature at first. It appeared to be some distant relation of a Shadow, but did not appear to resemble any animal Vergil had yet seen.

The creature did not seem to have noticed Vergil, but was alerted to the incoming APC. Indeed, it hissed to itself as the vehicle approached. The machine gunner could not yet see it.

Acting quickly, Vergil fired an opaque blue sword at the creature, but the projectile simply shot through it, leaving the demon unscratched.

The creature suddenly exploded – that is, it's steam-like body expanded out from the shape of an animal, and enveloped nearby boulders of rubble, fallen segments of buildings and devastated cars.

Vergil watched on with fascination as the pieces of ruin covered by the grey mist hurtled through the air, colliding with each other at a centralised point. Bit by bit, the mist constructed a large golem-like edifice, easily as tall as a building. When the final piece of the unholy jigsaw was assembled, two lamp-like eyes flashed into life at what clearly was supposed to be the head of the beast.

The machine gunner was long aware of this new threat and had opened fire. However, the bullets merely glanced off the beasts tough body, having absolutely no effect.

The beast began to slowly stomp towards the armoured personnel carrier, it's eyes flashing once with evil intent.

* * *

_Joe: Done and dusted for now._

_As usual, please review if you've read thus far, your opinions are valued._

_For now, Joe signing out._


End file.
